


Cursed Rooms and Misconceptions

by Pyrophite



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders (Dragon Age) Positive, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Danarius (Dragon Age) Being an Asshole, Dubious Consent, Fenris (Dragon Age) Needs a Hug, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 39,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22421842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrophite/pseuds/Pyrophite
Summary: Kirkwall exists at a weak spot in the veil. Demons lurk just beyond, waiting for their chance to cross over. Only Garrett Hawke and his ragtag band of misfits stand between the good citizens of Kirkwall and absolute chaos. This fic isn’t about that. This fic is about Anders and Fenris having tons of sex.
Relationships: Fenris/Anders, Fenris/Justice, Male Hawke/Merrill
Comments: 35
Kudos: 142





	1. Chapter 1

“This has gotten completely out of hand.” Hawke rubbed his temples, a gesture that looked particularly bizarre with a dagger in each hand. Hunting down an artifact from Tevinter’s golden age had seemed straightforward enough until they discovered the ever-changing labyrinth that was the ancient ruin. Hawke and his assorted allies would turn a corner only to discover that the passage they had just come from was a dead end. Add on the wraiths and shrieks that prowled the area and they knew they were in for a bad time. “Ok, alright. Let’s split into teams of two. Merrill has a spell to help us find each other once we’ve found the damn thing. Aveline, Donnic, you work together anyhow. Take the eastmost passage.” Aveline acknowledged the instruction with a curt nod. “Isabela, Sebastian. I want you sneaking through the main hallway. That’s where most of the shrieks are, so try to avoid their notice.”

“Better take off that armor,” Isabela purred to Sebastian. “But seriously, that blinding white costume will give us away. Lose it.” Sebastian grumbled something under his breath as he began to remove his pauldrons.

“Anders and Fenris, head west. Try no to kill each other.”

Fenris’s frustrated “Seriously, Hawke?” overlapped Anders’ snide “No promises.”  
“We don’t even know what this artifact does. It is just as likely to curse us as aide us. Nothing created by the Imperium is worth this kind of trouble.”

“Least of all cranky ex-slaves,” Anders muttered to himself. The glare Fenris was leveling at him could have cut glass. He briefly wondered if the elf had heard him, but decided he didn’t care.

“We’ve come this far. I’m not ready to turn back yet.” Hawke considered the two remaining exits that currently existed and the three people who had yet to be assigned. “One of us is going to have to go it alone, I’m afraid.”

“I’m never alone when I have Bianca with me, Hawke.”

Hawke gave the dwarf an amused glance. “Which is always. Ok, Varric, you and Bianca head north. Merrill, you’re with me.”

“Ooh, well played, Hawke,” Isabella chuckled. “‘Merrill, you’re with me.’ Just luck of the draw, of course. Total happenstance.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hawke replied, with a wide-eyed expression he hoped portrayed innocence.

“Neither do I,” admitted Merrill. “Did you want to go with Hawke, Isabela? I mean, I’d like to, but if you want to then you should have that chance, too. I wouldn’t mind.”

“No kitten, you go with Hawke. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Varric smirked. “Rivaini, with a setup that obvious it’s just not worth following through.”

And so Fenris found himself paired up with the abomination as they made their way from non-descript room to non-descript hallway to non-descript room that definitely hadn’t been there before. Anders insisted on talking to fill the time, not seeming to care that Fenris wasn’t even acknowledging his chatter. After some time they found themselves in a small room that proved to be a dead end. Fenris turned to retrace his steps just in time to watch the door slam closed and vanish. Where there used to be a door was only a wall with a large plaque on it.

“Well,” Anders drawled, “that complicates things.”

Anders was getting on Fenris’ last nerve. “Silence, abomination!” got him a nasty look but a moment of quiet. Fenris pounded on the wall, searching for any seams. All he got in return was a faint echo and sore knuckles. It was as if the door had never been there. He pulled out the coin that was supposed to let the blood mage find them, though his skin crawled to touch it. It seemed to tug on his brands, a slight pressure that threatened to tear through him at any moment. Even so, he pinched the coin as he had been told. Hopefully the witch would lead Hawke to them and they could find a way out. He noticed the mage had been silent for some time as he read the plaque on the wall.

Anders finally broke the silence. “This...is not good. Hey elf, how about a translation? I know a few words in Tevene, enough to see that we have a problem, but I need to know exactly what this says.”

“Read it to me.”

“What, too lazy to use your own eyes? Just get over here and read it.”

“I can’t.”

Anders sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Fenris, as much as we don’t like each other, can we please just work together for once? I don’t have the patience to deal with whatever this is.”

“I cannot read, mage.”

“Oh...huh.”

Fenris peered at Anders from under lowered lids. It galled him to admit weakness under any circumstances. To reveal his ignorance to the abomination was nearly intolerable. If Anders mocked him for it, so help him, he would not be held accountable for his actions.  
The expression on Anders’ face was as unreadable to Fenris as the plaque.

“Alright. I’ll sound it out for you.”

Fenris listened with increasing horror as Anders stumbled through his butchered pronunciation of Tevene poetry. He desperately wanted to believe the mage was making it all up, but that was impossible seeing as he clearly understood very little of what he was saying.

“So? What does it mean?”

“It means that the ancient magister who built this place was every bit as debauched and deranged as the average modern magister. This is a sex dungeon.”

“That’s...not funny.”

“No. It’s not.” Fenris studied the mage carefully as he recited the translation. He had no intention of letting Anders touch him, and if the man made any indication of doing so, he was ready to put a stop to it with a glowing fist.

“Oh ye seekers of carnal delights, here will you find knowledge of each other. As a sword into its sheath shall you be. Only upon release will you yourselves be released.”

An expression of shock crossed Anders face but was quickly suppressed. He walked to the opposite wall and leaned back against it, crossed his arms, and stared at his feet like they knew another way out. For once he was speechless.

“I have already signalled the witch to come find us. Hawke will get us out of here.” It had to be true. Fenris would not consider the alternative. He would rather die than let another mage violate him. “Meanwhile, I’m going to keep searching for that door.” Fenris resumed his prodding and punching of the walls, brands lighting up and boosting his strength. There had to be a weak spot.

The mage wasn’t being any help, leaning on the opposite wall and hunching his shoulders.

“Hawke! Hawke, can you hear me?” Fenris waited for several moments, but of course no response came. “Anders, make yourself useful! Surely you know some spell that can bring down a wall without crushing us at the same time.”

“Oh, now you want my input? Whatever happened to ‘Silence, abomination!’” The mage’s sneer grated on Fenris’ frayed nerves. He punched the wall again, so hard that he heard a sickening crunch and felt an explosion of pain in his knuckles. He cradled his injured hand and leaned his forehead against the wall, fighting the urge to give in to despair.

Time passed. Noone spoke. Anders kicked his heel back against the wall rhythmically. Fenris sank down the opposite wall, knees up, head cradled in his arms, nursing his broken fingers.

“I’ve been thinking,” Anders began, then paused to wait for a sarcastic remark that did not come. Well, that was a bad sign if Fenris didn’t even want to ridicule him. “I’ve been thinking. We don’t know how long it will take for Hawke and Merrill and the others to find us. You may be willing to wait, but I for one have a problem with small, enclosed spaces.”

“What are you saying, mage?” Fenris ground out.

“I was thinking.”

“So you said.”

Ah, there at last was a little bit of sass. Not up to Fenris’ usual standards, but it was something. Anders cleared his throat nervously. “The spell on this room. It’s just sex. You may be a narrow-minded bigot, but you’re easy on the eyes. I’ve certainly had worse.”

Fenris swallowed hard, hoping none of his fear showed through. “Is this your idea of a seduction, mage? ‘I’ve had worse?’”

“Hey, I’m trying here. You don’t like me and I don’t like you, but if all it takes to get out of this place is a quick fuck, I’m up for it.” Even that part of him that was Justice couldn’t object to the situation. This wasn’t a distraction - this was necessary.

Of course. Of course the mage wanted to use him. To dominate him. No mage turned away from power, and sex was power. Power and pain. Fenris hunched further, hiding his face behind his knees as memories threatened to overcome him. He would NOT think about Danarius. He was free. He was free, his friends were nearby somewhere, and he would not submit to the abomination. “It is out of the question. Do not suggest it again.”

Anders huffed. Why was the stupid elf so stubborn? It’s not like he was proposing marriage. Although if that’s what it took to get him out of this tiny, windowless room...well, no, that might actually be worse than solitary.

Their reverie was interrupted by a muffled voice from the other side of the wall. “Hello in there! Anders? Fenris?”

Fenris leapt to his feet “Hawke! You found us!”

“Merril found you. Everybody ok in there?”

“I’m sorry it took so long, lethallan,” Merrill’s voice chimed in. “We were trapped for awhile in a cursed room. Oh dear, you have the same problem, don’t you?”

“That depends,” Anders contributed. “Did your cursed room demand you have sex in order to escape?”

“Er...Yes. It’s a good thing Merrill’s studied Tevene, or we wouldn’t have had a clue what to do.”

“Tell me you have a way to break this enchantment other than the obvious.”

“Not yet. We’re working on it. We’re trying to find the others, too. Look, you two sit tight, play nice, and we’ll be back in a jiffy.”

And then they were gone. Fenris and Anders considered each other from across the room, which really wasn’t that far away given how small it was.

“Here, Fenris, let me at least heal your hand.”

Though reluctant to allow the mage to use magic on him, the warrior weighed his options and concluded that he should at least be able to defend himself. He would have to trust Anders in this. “If you must.”

“That’s what I find most endearing about you, elf. Your overwhelming sense of gratitude.”

Fenris clenched his jaw against the pain as magic coursed through his markings. Soon it was over, and the relief was immediate. He flexed his hand experimentally and was pleased to feel no pain. He nodded to the mage and settled back against his wall.

More time passed. Hawke and Merrill returned, this time with Varric, Aveline, and Donnic. “How’s it going in there? Everybody still in one piece?”

“Yes, Hawke,” Fenris replied. “Have you determined how to free us?”

Merril answered. “Not yet, but we’re working on it. Everyone got trapped in the same sort of room. Aveline and Donnic got themselves out when we told them how - “

“You don’t have to give them that level of detail, Merrill.”

“Sorry, Aveline; I thought I was being discrete. Anyhow, Varric got out too. We found Isabela and Sebastian, but they’re still stuck.”

“Not due to the whore’s lack of trying, I’m sure.”

Something didn’t add up. “How did Varric escape?” Fenris wondered. “He was alone.”

“I’m never alone, Broody. But I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I...am relieved to be spared the details.”

“Just hang on awhile longer, you two,” Hawke said. We’re going to head back to camp and get some more equipment, see if we can come up with something.”

“That doesn’t sound very definite, Hawke.” Was it just Anders, or was the room getting smaller? “I really need to get out of here.”

“I know, Anders, we’re trying. Just stay strong. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

The mage and the warrior waited in silence for several minutes. Eventually, Anders spoke. “Fenris...I know you don’t want to talk about it, but PLEASE. We need to consider that they may not find another way out.”

Fenris gritted his teeth. “Don’t.”

“Really, Fenris - “

Fenris knew his eyes were wild, knew he was shouting too loudly, but he couldn’t stop the outburst. “I won’t let you fuck me, mage!”

“So you fuck me.” Anders shrugged. “I’m fine either way.”

The look on Fenris’ face was a cross between shock and amazement. He hadn’t even considered that Anders would be willing to debase himself like that. He couldn’t be serious, could he? But what would it be like? He let his eyes wander over the mage’s figure. Anders was not...unappealing. He was lean, with a hint of muscle under that ridiculous coat. His features were sharp, striking, even. His eyes could be kind when not narrowed in suspicion or anger. What would it be like to be inside someone else?

“Well?” Anders squirmed uncomfortably under that intense, unreadable gaze. Fenris looked like he wanted to either kill him or ravish him. It was unnerving, but undeniably hot. He felt a rush of confused lust and hoped he wasn’t about to experience the warrior’s phasing ability first-hand.

“You would...let me?”

“I offered, didn’t I? If topping is what gets your rocks off, go for it.” Maker knew it had been long enough since he’d allowed himself - or Justice had allowed him? - anything more than masturbation. The thought of connecting with another body was enticing, even if it was Fenris.

Fenris paused again to consider. He didn’t like Anders, but he didn’t want to hurt him. Nobody deserved to go through what had been done to him. But the mage was acting so casual about it. He wasn’t afraid. Intellectually, Fenris knew that some men enjoyed being penetrated. But his own experience was one of pain and humiliation. Was this a trick? Could he even trust the abomination?

Fenris’ voice sounded gravelly and hoarse to his own ears. “I...have two conditions.”

Eyebrow quirked, the mage gestured for him to continue.

“One, no magic.”

A nod.

“Two, your hands will be tied.”

“Kinky. Alright, Fenris, if that’s what you want.”

The elf stood abruptly and paced halfway across the room towards Anders. The mage held up a hand. “I have a condition, too. No unnecessary roughness. Oh, and if there’s no magic involved, what are we using for slick? You’re not taking me dry.”

“Healing potion.” The elf pulled one off his belt and tossed it to Anders. “Now strip.”

How abrupt. Well, it’s not as if he expected tenderness from someone who hates him. Anders shrugged off his coat in record time, followed quickly by tunic, pants and smalls. In moments he was standing naked and slightly aroused in front of the fully clothed elf. He was confident in his body; despite the years of self-sacrifice he knew he had an elegant form. The lovers he used to have had not been disappointed. Still, it was with some approbation that he studied the warrior for a response.

“Kneel,” Fenris ordered.

Anders wished that he could read Fenris better. He seemed stern, cold, with none of the attraction he’d hoped to find and none of the heat that had been there earlier. That wouldn’t do. The mage sank to the ground smoothly, cocked his hip, and crossed his wrists in front of him. A lascivious smirk completed the performance.

The elf appeared unmoved. “Arms behind you,” was all he had to contribute. Anders frowned, feeling a hint of fear for the first time. “You remember my one condition.”

“I do,” Fenris replied as he used his belt to bind the mage’s hands behind his back. “If I hurt you, tell me, and I shall stop. I swear it.”

“Oh...good.” That rich voice in his ear sent shivers up his spine. Anders was beginning to feel a bit less afraid and a lot more flushed with arousal.

Fenris considered the man kneeling before him. Anders was naked, trembling, completely at his mercy. Why did Fenris still feel so exposed? He knelt behind the mage and removed his gauntlets so that he could pull that reddish-blonde hair out of its leather tie. He ran his fingers through the locks, smoothing out any tangles he could find. The hair on the mage’s head was soft and silky, so unlike the rough stubble that his hands explored next. Fenris trailed his fingertips down the human’s neck, along the long scars on his back, then down his chest to lightly brush one pebbled nipple. Anders’ breath was coming harshly. His cock was more than half engorged; Fenris was surprised to note that the mage was uncut. In Tevinter, boys were circumsized shortly after birth. He fought the urge to reach out and touch it, to find out if it was as velvety as it looked. Instead, he transferred his attention to the mage’s ass. That was, after all, the end goal of this bizarre exercise. Fenris cupped a cheek in each hand, squeezing the firm globes and spreading them apart. There it was, the tiny pucker that was supposed to take his whole dick. It hardly seemed possible without hurting Anders. It certainly had never been anything but painful for him. How could the mage trust him with this? He would not trust Anders if their positions were reversed.

“This would be easier if you undressed, too,” Anders panted. This was the best kind of torture, unable to guess when the next touch would come, listening for the next sharp intake of breath behind him. Anders knew the elf was violent and unpredictable, but now he was acting almost maddeningly gentle. This was shaping up to be one of the better ideas he’d had recently. Or the worst.

Fenris shed his armor and clothing less gracefully than Anders had. His fingers were shaking and refusing to cooperate. The throbbing bulge in his leggings wasn’t exactly helping, either. Fortunately, since the mage was kneeling and facing away from him, there was nobody to witness his sudden clumsiness. The air of the chamber was cold on his bare skin.

Impatience and curiosity getting the better of him, Anders craned his neck to look behind him. He nearly moaned at the sight that greeted him. The elf was completely nude at last, kneeling behind the mage. His erection jutted proudly, embraced by whorls of lyrium extending from base to tip. Maker, there was lyrium everywhere on him. The stretch in his torso as he reached for the healing potion highlighted the toned muscle. He was lithe and strong and so achingly beautiful. Anders had to remind himself that they hated each other. It was getting hard to remember.

Fenris blushed when he felt Anders’ gaze on him. He avoided nudity as a general rule, afraid of becoming a spectacle to his friends. And Anders was not even a friend, more an associate. Certainly someone who would not hesitate to mock him when this was over. His left hand darted out and grasped the mage by the base of his neck, pushing his face to the floor. Anders rested his cheek on the cool stone and closed his eyes as he felt the elf lift his hips and position him just so. His stomach fluttered and he braced himself. So much for gentleness.

It was with something akin to shock that Anders registered the single wet finger stroking his pucker. It probed him almost hesitantly, pushing slightly and then backing away without penetrating. This time he couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping.

“Mage…” The elf’s voice sounded hoarse. “I won’t...If you...You can change your mind. I won’t do this if you want me to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Anders whispered. “Don’t stop.”

Fenris smeared a little more potion onto his index finger, then pushed it into Anders at last. The man moaned obscenely and Fenris’ cock throbbed. He added a second finger, searching for a spot he hoped he could find. There was a place, if the angle was right, that had always distracted him from the pain. It was confusing to say the least, to experience the sharp pain of his master thrusting into him, to feel the tearing, while simultaneously a steady, exquisite pressure built. If he could find that spot for Anders...Not that he planned to injure the mage. Slaves did not merit the courtesy of lubrication. This was different. Surely this would be different. Fenris felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as his erection began to wilt.

Anders cried out as Fenris’ strong fingers found his prostate and began to stroke. He was fully hard and leaking now. His powers of speech were reduced to a steady “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” one word for every thrust of the elf’s fingers. Helplessly he writhed, pulling at his bindings, chafing his wrists but uncaring as long as Fenris kept. doing. that.

Blissful though it was, Anders realized he needed more. It had been so long since he was able to lose himself in carnal pleasures. He had forgotten how good it felt - not just physically, but to connect with another person that way. Maker, he needed this. He needed to be filled. “Fen- Fen, I’m ready. I’m so ready.”

“I...am not.” Fenris felt ill. He had thought he had grown beyond his past, but clearly Danarius still had an iron hold on him. He couldn’t even stay hard with a (strangely) willing partner. He might have run, but he was still a slave.

“Fenris?” Anders looked over his shoulder, then raised his torso off the ground and turned to face the elf. He was surprised and disappointed to see that the warrior was nearly soft. Fenris sat with his head lowered, glaring at his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“I...apologize. I know you want to get out of here, and so do I. However, it doesn’t feel as it should.”

“Well, we’ve never gotten along before. It’s bound to be a little strange. I was enjoying myself. Much more than I expected to, honestly. I’d hoped you were, too.”

“I was.” Fenris shook his head and lowered his eyes again. “I don’t know what happened.” It was a lie, of course. Hopefully Anders didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell whether he was being truthful.

Anders cocked his head to the side and contemplated the elf. At least this time the warrior was letting him look his fill. And what a gorgeous sight it was! If only this prickly nymph looked a little less upset. “It’s ok. These things happen. I could try something, if you’re willing?”

“Try what?”

“Here, stand up.”

The elf rose to his feet. Anders shuffled over to kneel directly in front of him, wrists still bound behind his back. Before Fenris could comprehend what was happening, the mage had taken his cock into his mouth and began to suck. Against all his expectations, a jolt of lust rushed through him. Nobody had ever done this for him before - of course they hadn’t. It wasn’t his place. Not then. But he was not in Tevinter any more. Fenris watched with dazed fascination as Anders wrapped his talented lips around the elf’s rapidly hardening length and moaned - as if he were the one receiving pleasure. Tentatively, Fenris reached out and rested his fingertips lightly on the mage’s scalp. The moans increased as he began to lightly stroke the man’s head. The mage’s broad tongue laving across his sensitive tip was like nothing the elf had experienced before. It wasn’t long before Fenris was as achingly hard as he had ever been. Anders’ mouth pulled off him with an obscene pop. “Ready to try again?”

Before Fenris was able to collect his wits enough to respond, the mage had bent over and presented his ass like a dog in heat. The warrior’s head was spinning. He took his position behind the mage, using one hand to guide himself to Anders’ already prepared entrance, as the other gripped the man’s hip tightly. The head of his arousal pressed in slowly. There was resistance as he pushed against Anders’ tight sphincter, and he nearly withdrew. But the mage was moaning wantonly under him, begging Fenris to take him. Kaffas, it felt so good. The elf thrust in, pushing and withdrawing, burying a little more of him in the hot passage each time. Once he was fully seated, he reached down to cup Anders’ erection. As he thrust, harder and less controlled as the moments passed, he stroked that hard rod and marvelled at how the foreskin slicked over the sensitive shaft. Anders writhed and whimpered beneath him. His world was “Yes!” and “Please!” and “More!” Fenris draped himself over the mage’s back as they rocked together. He found himself kissing and suckling at those freckled shoulders, giving in to an instinctual urge he had never felt before. Anders let out a keening cry as his cock began to spurt, as Fenris milked every last drop out of him with his talented hand. He continued to moan as Fenris gripped his hips with both hands and slammed into him. The elf was grunting now, taking him hard and fast. The grunts turned to groans, and he felt Fenris pulse heavily inside him. His bound arms were sore, his knees and hips were bruised, and he could not remember the last time he felt so good.

Fenris gasped as he came down from the most intense orgasm of his life. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to leave that tight heat. At the same time, he felt like he could sleep for a week. Carefully he wrapped his arms around the mage’s chest and maneuvered them onto their sides, spooning Anders from behind. He felt suddenly protective of the man, and winced to think of how thoroughly he’d lost control. Anders’ tied hands were pressed between the two. Fenris pulled away enough that he could remove the belt restraining his partner. “Anders...Are you alright? I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry? Are you insane? Wait, don’t answer that.” Anders wriggled around to face the elf. “That was incredible. That was actually the best thing to happen to me in a long time, and you didn’t have to make it that way, so. Thank you.”

Fenris studied Anders’ face for any hint of sarcasm, but the man seemed sincere. “I...enjoyed it too,” he eventually replied. Anders rewarded him with the biggest smile he’d ever given the elf. “I’m glad. I would also have accepted, ‘Oh Anders, your ass is sheer perfection! It was my great privilege to be inside it!’”

Fenris coughed and looked everywhere but at the mage, but the edges of his mouth were quirking up. At last he spoke again, like a splash of cold water. “The door is back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfic and this is what I write? Mom would be so ashamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke could not have been more surprised to encounter his two companions at the entrance to the ruins. He was struck speechless, mouth hanging open, able only to point at the healer , the warrior, and back again.

“You’ve escaped, thank goodness!” Merrill chirped.

Anders eventually managed to come up with some words. “Yes, well. Hmm. It really wasn’t all that complicated in the end.”  
Fenris merely glared at the middle distance between the four of them.

“So can we return to camp, or are you still set on finding that artifact?” asked Anders.

Hawke finally regained his powers of speech. “No, no more artifact searching for today. But Isabella and Sebastian are still stuck in there. You two got out before Isabella! Neither you nor she will ever live this down.”

“I’m so proud of you both. It’s good to see that you can cooperate after all!”

“Yes, thank you, Merrill. I’m sure that’s the moral of today’s story.” Anders sighed. “Go lend Isabella and Sebastian your moral support. I, for one, am sore and tired and going back to camp.”

Hawke patted Anders on the shoulder. “Sounds like you do need some rest at that.” He glanced down, noticing the chafing and bruising at the mage’s wrists. His expression darkened, though he said nothing more.

Fenris felt his gut clench in a combination of nervousness, lust and shame. If he had magic, he would definitely make everyone forget what had just happened. By no means could he face any more of his friends anytime soon. His offer to keep watch was approved by a curt nod from Hawke.

It was another 3 hours before Hawke and Merrill returned with the final members of their party in tow. Sebastian was reciting the chant under his breath and avoiding eye contact. That suited Fenris just fine. Isabella, on the other hand…

“I must be losing my touch! You and Anders got it on before I could get choir boy here to loosen up? Why couldn’t I have been in your room? Not that I have any complaints about the last hour, mind you, but the time it took to get there! Fenris, you have to tell me - who was on top? Ooh, did you take turns?”

“I don’t think people usually take turns in sex, Isabela. It’s not like a game of Wicked Grace.”

“Oh, but it is, Kitten. It really is.”

Several monologues about Sebastian’s “remarkable dexterity” and Anders’ electricity trick later, they made it back to camp. Dinner was a quiet affair, disrupted only by occasional whispers from Donnic and uncharacteristic giggling from Aveline. Hawke found his gaze drawn to Merrill again and again, only to see that she was already smiling at him. He couldn’t believe his luck. To have been too nervous to even ask her on a date, only for her to leap into his arms the moment the plaque was translated! This just might be the greatest day of his life. Or it would be, if not for Anders’ withdrawn behavior and Fenris’ stony silence. And then there was the damage to Anders’ wrists. Was it too much to ask for the two of them to treat each other with respect for one fucking day? How naive he had been to trust that neither would hurt the other when the chips were down. They were both his friends, though he was closest to Anders. He knew the elf’s hatred of magic was truly blinding. Anders hadn’t made any accusations or complaints, which was odd in itself. Since when did the mage miss a chance to snipe at the warrior? He had avoided all of Hawke’s questions. Something had happened in there. Something bad. He’d be damned if he let Fenris do any more damage to the already emotionally fragile mage.

“Fenris. A word.”

“Yes, Hawke?” Cringing internally, Fenris joined Hawke outside the circle of tents.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Anders in there, and I’m not sure I want to. But know this. If you ever take advantage of this to hurt Anders, or if I learn you forced him in any way, you are a dead elf. Got it?”

“I understand. He will have nothing to fear from me.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

Fenris watched Hawke return to the campfire, wishing that he could curl up into a ball and disappear. Whatever faith Hawke might have had in him before was gone now. And he deserved it, did he not? The mage had never once harmed him, yet he had trussed the human up like a criminal and used him like a slave. That Anders claimed to have enjoyed it did not alter the fact that Fenris had taken his pleasure in a helpless man’s body. He felt ill. He’d never believed he would stoop to the level of a magister. Fenris would not be sleeping tonight.

Anders had a lot to think about, alone in his small tent. He’d had sex with men who hated him before, but it was never like this. Solitary confinement wasn’t always so solitary. Some of his templar guards could be persuaded to stay and keep him company with the offer of a blowjob or more, if you could call that company. But he had been desperate, going mad from the quiet and loneliness. Mr. Wiggums would visit, but he couldn’t speak to Anders. He would have given - and did give - anything for the sound of a human voice. The voice that haunted him now, however, was definitely elven. “Strip. Kneel.” But then there was that sincere promise not to hurt him, and later the breathy offer to stop, the attempt to re-establish consent. Who knew that prickly elf could be so considerate? Then there was the cuddling after. Cuddling was definitely outside the parameters of most of Anders’ previous relationships. It should have been unthinkable with Fenris, yet somehow it was...sweet. Comforting. Imagine that, thinking of the most bigoted and annoying person in his social circle as sweet! Will wonders never cease…

Perhaps now he would have to acknowledge the bronto in the room. Something had been wrong with Fenris in that cursed room. Something deeply, distressingly wrong. It wasn’t just the kindness he demonstrated, although that was strange enough on its own. It was the violent refusal to consider Anders’ proposition until he suggested the elf could top him. The strange alternation between coldness and tenderness. The way he lost his erection for no reason. The apology afterwards. He’d been almost naive, though he certainly knew what he was doing during the act itself. Maker, did he ever! Arousal intertwined with uneasiness in Ander’s confused emotions. He didn’t want to think too hard about this, to make assumptions. He needed to get back to normal, back to his work! That thought seemed particularly Justice-y, but he couldn’t reliably tell which thoughts were him and which came from Justice anymore. He needed to stop obsessing over Fenris, of all people, and focus on what was important. And yet...Fenris was a powerful warrior with unique abilities. He could be a valuable ally if he could ever be swayed to the cause. If Anders learned understand him better, they might be able to bridge that gap between their ideologies. Or maybe Anders was just looking for an excuse to feel that hard body over him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Anders’ half-baked idea to seduce Fenris over to the side of mage rights wasn’t looking very promising. It wasn’t that they were arguing too much - no, the elf would barely say a word to him anymore. Hawke hadn’t asked them both to help him out at the same time since that day at the ruins. Anders only saw Fenris at Wicked Grace nights, where the warrior was polite but withdrawn. He even tried reading his manifesto aloud tonight, and all the elf did was quaff his drink in record time. It was bizarre. He wanted to give it up as a bad job, but as he chased sleep each night his thoughts insisted on straying to a husky voice and soft fingertips on his scalp.

It was a relief that Hawke was still inviting Fenris out on his latest wild nug chases. Even better, he was leaving the abomination behind those days. After Hawke’s “couples only” successful second attempt at recovering the Tevinter artifact, he’d asked Fenris to help wipe out some renegade coterie cell. Then there was the search for the harlot’s blush flower, the exploration of a freshly opened passage on Sundermount, and the joust against a particularly evil windmill. He had hope that things were finally getting back to normal.

That particular illusion was shattered every time Wicked Grace night came along. Fenris found himself hyper-aware of Anders’ every move. He didn’t seem any the worse for wear. He still bet wildly and lost badly, still nursed his single watered-down ale over the entire evening. And yet, the mage had changed. He would frequently try to engage Fenris in conversation, and not always about politics. Fenris did not understand. There was never any reproach in his words, neither embarrassment nor shame nor anger. He was unsure how to respond to this display of generosity, so he mostly kept to monosyllabic responses.

Currently, Fenris was on his third drink and up by a few sovereigns. The night was shaping up well, despite the tension between him and the mage. Hawke was even smiling and joking with him again. Admittedly, Hawke was deep into his fourth ale and also trying to fit on the witch’s lap. Of course that was when Anders brought up the Gallows, announced his intention to burn Meredith in effigy outside the viscount’s keep, and performed a dramatic reading of his manifesto while staring straight into Fenris’ eyes. The eyes in question trailed down to the mage’s mouth. _Pink lips stretched around his cock, tongue chasing the lyrium ridges along his shaft. A strong, scarred back and pert ass. A tenor voice moaning as he thrust into that tight hole, taking what he needed, chasing ecstasy_...The cheap ale at the Hanged Man didn’t taste very good, but that hardly mattered if you drank the whole mug in one go. He needed to be a lot more inebriated if he wanted to block out those intrusive thoughts.

Fenris took his leave early that night. Back at the dilapidated mansion, he promptly switched over to the high-quality wine that Danarius had so kindly left in the basement. Getting thoroughly sauced would be so much more efficient that way. Imagine that, drinking through a mage’s well-curated wine collection in order to forget that he fucked a different mage! Or both mages. Or got fucked? Eugh, Corff’s ale might have been a little stronger than anticipated. He wanted to make things right with Anders. Should he offer himself up to the mage for an evening? That would be fair. It would also destroy the fragile pride he had painstakingly built up since his escape. Then there was the pain, so different from the pain of his markings yet every bit as torturous. Even if Anders was careful with him, there could be no enjoyment for Fenris in that activity. Vishante kaffas, no! Acting as the...receptacle...once again would be intolerable. He needed more wine if he wanted to sleep tonight.

Anders had lost track of the time, having been pulled into a debate with Sebastian over the part of his manifesto he’d just read aloud. By now he was exhausted. It was past midnight already, and he’d promised Hawke he’d go out to the bone pit with him tomorrow to check on the miners. That meant waking early to see a few patients prior to heading out to what would likely be a 2-3 day jaunt. He excused himself with a yawn. As he left the Hanged Man, a hand on his shoulder interrupted his scattered thoughts. Hawke.

“Hey Anders, about tomorrow. There’s a teeny-tiny problem. Aveline can’t come with us after all, and knowing the bone pit we’re going to need a front-line fighter. Would it be alright with you if I asked Fenris?”

Anders blinked, fighting his drowsiness as he wondered why his opinion on Fenris mattered all of a sudden.

“It’s ok,” Hawke continued, “I warned him off. You won’t have to worry about him, but if you’re not comfortable then that’s fine too and we can wait for Aveline.”

“You did _what_?”

“I...uh...told him that if he hurt you I’d kill him? Should I not have?”

“No, you blasted well shouldn’t have!” Anders took a deep breath, trying to control the blue fissures appearing on his skin. Focus, Anders. Focus on the confused expression on Hawke’s adorable, stupid face. He was trying to be a good friend. “What exactly do you think happened in that room? Because it sounds like you have the entirely wrong idea.”

“Um...I guess I must. But you’d been roughed up and wouldn’t talk to me! What was I supposed to think?”

“Roughed up? More like thoroughly shagged for the first time in four fucking years! I had a lot to process!” A passing lowtown resident gave him a startled look.

“Ok, ok, I get it! Calm down, Anders, you’re turning blue in the face.”

Anders dug his fingernails into his palms and took deep breaths until he felt more in control. “It’s no wonder he’s been avoiding me. If I didn’t think it would just make things worse, I’d suggest you owe Fenris an apology. You have no idea what he was like down there.”

“That’s true; I really can’t imagine.”

“He was so...vulnerable. Sure there was some posturing and some anger, but when it came right down to it he was so incredibly careful with me. I haven’t felt valued like that in a long time, even if it was an illusion.”

“Ok, Anders, I get the idea. I’m sorry I interfered.” Hawke had the grace to look ashamed. “I’ll lay off him. Are you still coming tomorrow?”

“I don’t see why not, and of course you can bring the broody elf. I should talk to him anyhow, if he’ll let me. Goodnight, Hawke.”

“Goodnight, Anders.”

The healer was halfway to his clinic when he changed his mind and headed for Hightown. He knew how much respect Fenris had for Hawke; the knowledge of his displeasure must have been crushing. The elf should not be suffering under a false accusation. It was unjust. He needed to fix this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How drunk is Fenris? A bit drunker than he ought to be, but not so drunk that Anders can tell.

A sharp series of knocks startled Fenris from his reverie. At this hour, it could only be Hawke. At most hours, in fact, it could only be Hawke. Sighing, he set his half-finished bottle on the floor and went to the door.

Anders was about to knock again when the door was opened by a very surprised elf. It was rare that Anders had the occasion to see Fenris in anything other than his armor. He found he quite liked the sleeveless tunic and leggings look. It allowed him a glorious view of defined, lyrium-adorned biceps and tensing forearms that hopefully were not about to light up and come at him. Not under these circumstances, anyhow.

Carefully hiding his rising sense of panic, Fenris greeted him. “Your visit is unexpected. Is anything amiss?”

“Maker, Fenris, it’s well past midnight after a party at the Hanged Man and you still sound like a proper Hightown snob... Sorry, that was a terrible way to start my half of this conversation.”

Rather than closing the door on him as he half expected, Fenris simply shrugged and walked back into his mansion. After a moment, Anders decided to take that as an invitation and followed the warrior into what used to be some sort of sitting room. The was only one usable chair left in the place, but at least there was a fire going in the hearth. Fenris sank into the chair and returned his attention to his bottle of wine. To someone who wasn’t looking closely, his position might have appeared relaxed. One leg crossed in front of him on the cushion, one foot planted firmly on the floor. To Anders he looked like a panther waiting to leap. “I assume you did not come here to assess the decor, Anders. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?

The mage swallowed nervously. “I talked to Hawke tonight. He said he’d threatened you to leave me alone. He was wrong to do that. I’ll tell you what a told him: that you did absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.” Fenris seemed to have no response to that. His brows were pinched together, but hid the rest of his expression as he took another swig from the bottle. “And it...seemed very important to tell you this tonight rather than waiting for a reasonable time of day.”

Fenris stared at his bottle rather than the mage as he spoke. “I have been intending to speak with you, though I feared you would not welcome my presence. You say I have done nothing to be ashamed of, but what I did to you was shameful. I must...beg your forgiveness.”

“I truly don’t understand you, Fenris.” The mage’s tone was not unkind. “I told you then and I’m telling you now that you didn’t do anything I didn’t want. You had my very enthusiastic consent, and I regret nothing. If you regret it then that’s unfortunate, but don’t assume there’s a problem on my behalf. Where did you get this idea that sex is shameful?”

The elf’s eyes looked suspiciously moist as he wrung his hands on the bottle neck. “I don’t have much experience in this area. It is difficult for me to accept that you could truly consent, when your motivation was to escape that room at any cost.”

“It started that way, yes. But when you were holding me, when you were inside me, I was glad it was you. You made me feel like I was worth something.”

Fenris finally looked up from his chair and into Anders’ eyes searchingly, wanting to believe him but still uncertain.

“I was wrong about one thing, Fenris. I do have one regret. I regret that I never kissed you.” And with that the mage was leaning over him, cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together. Fenris froze for a moment, dropping the wine. As he regained his senses, Fenris hesitantly returned the kiss. No magister would sully himself by putting his mouth on a slave. Anders was no magister.

Anders’ tongue probed the elf’s wine-flavored lips, seeking entrance.To his surprise and relief, the elf’s lips parted obediently. He clearly had not had much practice with kissing, but he was responsive and a fast learner. That was strange, though, wasn’t it? He certainly knew what he was doing last time - That line of thought was interrupted by Fenris grabbing Anders’ coat and pulling him closer. Anders deepened the kiss as he moved to straddle the seated warrior. The hand resting on the elf’s cheek stroked his hair back from his face, fingers winding into the soft locks. His other hand moved to Fenris’ neck and jaw to control the angle of the kiss, allowing him to explore the elf’s mouth further. Anders settled onto the elf’s lap, gratified to feel Fenris’ prominent arousal pressing into his buttocks. He realized then that he was distinctly overdressed for this activity. The healer did all in his power to continue the kiss as he began the lengthy process of unbuckling his coat. This effort clearly earned Fenris’ approval. Lyrium-lined hands finally released the front of his coat in order to assist him in peeling it off. Now less encumbered, he returned to kissing Fenris. Beginning with a soft, closed-mouth kiss, he parted their lips again with a teasing nip and began chasing the lyrium lines down the elf’s chin and neck. Fenris shivered and held him tighter as the mage reached the junction between neck and shoulder and began to suck on his branded skin. The faint taste of lyrium ignited something within him and he bucked his hips sharply against the warrior’s stomach.

This was more than Fenris could have imagined; more than he had ever experienced before. His penis throbbed against the mage’s ass and his alcohol-numbed thoughts buzzed confusedly through his brain. Everything was happening so fast. He felt everything at once - the attraction, the guilt, the hope, the fear. But most of all, the consuming lust that Anders brought out in him.

Anders had begun to trail his lips back up the elf’s neck when he felt strong hands on his waist. He was pulled upwards so he knelt over his partner’s lap.without touching. In one graceful movement, Fenris slid down the chair until his knees were on the ground and Anders was straddling his chest. The human gasped as Fenris began to mouth at his erection through his trousers. He took a deep breath, willing himself not to come on the spot. A growl of “Too many clothes” accompanied by the elf rubbing his cheek on him tested the limits of his Warden stamina. A squeak he wished was not quite so high-pitched escaped his lips. He lost no time in unlacing his trousers and shoving his smalls to the side. He knew that the sight of the gorgeous elf sizing up his cock was going to sustain him through many a lonely night. “Maker, what you do to me, Fenris…”

The elf said nothing, only opening his mouth to lick a long line up the organ in front of him from root to tip. Next he kissed his way up the same trail, ending by swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip. “Yes,” Anders hissed as he brought down his hands to stroke his partner’s cheek and velvety ears. He watched in eager fascination as Fenris explored his member, nuzzling at his balls and placing tiny kitten-licks up the shaft. When he reached the tip this time he stopped his teasing, taking the head into his mouth and sucking lightly. The sensation drew a low moan out of the mage. He gripped the back of the chair to avoid the temptation to grab Fenris’ head and thrust into him. The elf began to bob his head slowly, each time taking in more of Anders’ impressive length. With half his dick crammed into that wet heat, Anders knew the elf could take no more. He quivered as he knelt there over the slighter man, clutching the back of his chair with all his might and fighting the urge to move his hips. Then Fenris did the unthinkable. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his throat. Anders cried out at the elf surged forward, taking him to the hilt. The elf reached up to grab Anders by the wrist and guide the man’s hand to his head. The mage held on tight, uncaring of the garbled curses and moans spilling from his lips as he watched those sinful lips glide along his cock over and over again. There was no way he could last long like this, and he barely managed a gasped warning before he was spilling himself deep into Fenris’ throat.

Anders clung to the back of the chair with one arm as the aftershocks ran through him. For a moment, none of his worries could find him. His mind was quiet. All that mattered was the elf under him and the unbelievable experience he’d just been given. As he began to come to his senses, he realized that Fenris’ position couldn’t possibly be comfortable, half on and half off the chair and pinned by the heavier man. He looked down to see the elf with a peculiar expression on his face, eyes closed and swollen lips still parted. Anders slid down to sit on the ground, pulling Fenris into his lap, noting the elf was still at full mast. He would greatly enjoy taking care of that in a moment. He smoothed his fingers through Fenris hair, studying his face as those big green eyes blinked open. Fenris lowered his head quickly and tucked it under the mage’s chin, avoiding his gaze.

“Fenris...that was incredible. How are you feeling?”

“I am fine.”

“Just fine? That was the most incredible blow job of my life. I’m really hoping you’re more than just fine.”

Fenris shrugged and curled closer into Anders’ chest.

Anders wrapped his arms more tightly around the elf, tracing his fingertips in random patterns along his back. “Fen, you said you didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing. Where did you learn to do something like that?” He tried to keep his tone as gentle and neutral as possible.

The warrior tensed, then shrugged again. “Leave it, Anders.” He sounded sharper, more like he usually sounded when talking with the mage.

Anders sighed. The tension in his gut that he’d been able to ignore while being driven to a new height of ecstasy was slowly coiling into full-fledged horror. He drummed his fingers along Fenris’ spine as he tried to think of what to say. The elf climbed out of his lap and stood, not looking at him. “You should go, mage.”

“I...Fenris, I want to understand you. I want to help you.”

“I don’t need your help!” Now the elf was facing him, fury in his eyes. “Get out now before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Fenris, please -"

The elf threw the mage’s heavy coat at him and shoved him towards the door.

“Out!”

Anders backed away as Fenris lit his brands, then finally turned and left, slamming the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Anders was in a daze as he made his way back to Darktown. It was a miracle he wasn’t mugged; he wouldn’t have noticed an attacker if they’d been right in front of him. Perhaps it was the blue light intermittently shining out of him that kept the criminals away. He seethed with fury. He had assumed that Fenris’ former master was a cruel man, but he had never thought very deeply on it, never imagined the kind of depravity the magister was capable of. Fenris knew his way around anal sex and had fellatio skills any high-class whore would pay to learn, but he had no idea how to kiss. He had demanded control when they were in the cursed room, but show him a little tenderness and he melted into pure submission. That fucking bastard of a magister! It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. He would drown the world in blood before letting that sick fuck ever touch Fenris again.

Fenris nearly refused when Hawke showed up the next morning, brash and peppy as ever and asking for his help at the bone pit. His head ached, he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and he most certainly was not ready to face the mage. But the fact that Hawke was treating him more like normal each day swayed him. He couldn’t give Hawke more reason to doubt him. He owed the rogue more than that.

There were only four of them on this particular expedition: Hawke, Merrill, Anders, and himself. These days, Merrill went with Hawke on every adventure and hare-brained scheme. At times Fenris felt like an interloper on their exceptionally dangerous dates. With the two of them draped over each other whenever possible, there would be no buffer between Anders and him. Fortunately, though Hawke and his girlfriend were sharing a tent, he and Anders each carried their own. He would go to bed as soon as they camped. He would not think about the way the man tasted, the sounds he had made when Fenris took him deep. Fenris snuck a glance at the mage as he walked. Anders was kicking up dust with his heavy boots and whistling a marching tune, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. How much did he figure out last night? Fenris had always professed to have only been Danarius’ bodyguard. It was easier to pretend the rest hadn’t happened. The last thing he wanted was for his friends to find out the truth. They would all treat him with either scorn or pity if they knew. The mage was clearly suspicious. Would he tell Hawke? Was he disgusted that he had allowed Fenris to touch him? Or would he now expect Fenris to service him whenever he demanded? His stomach flipped. What if the mage decided to blackmail him? He glanced again at the man in question. Anders had stopped to examine an unusual caterpillar and was cooing at it like a lunatic. No, this was a man who had placed his well-being in the hands of an elf he did not even like. This was a man who smiled and cracked jokes after being laid bare in more ways than one. He had placed his trust in Fenris not long ago, and now it seemed Fenris was obliged to place his trust in the mage.

The quartet camped not far from the semi-permanent tents of the miners. Anders made use of a needle and thread to repair his tent, which had been ripped up by a giant spider that ambushed them on the road into the bone pit. He was lucky that the beast had a hard time distinguishing between dilapidated threadbare pack and dilapidated threadbare mage. It should still provide adequate shelter so long as it didn’t rain. Hawke was in charge of food tonight, which inevitably meant stew. How he could take wildly different assortments of ingredients and turn them into the same brown sludge every time boggled the mind. “What do you think, is it ready?” Hawke asked, offering Anders a spoonful of goop. The mage took a bite and grimaced. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Hawke.”

“Isn’t he? I’ve always thought so!” Merril served herself a dish and sprinkled it with some chopped-up flowers she had collected.

“It’s a curse I must bear, alas.” Hawke sat down next to his girlfriend, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Fenris, come out of your tent and eat! Can’t have you wasting away into a pile of angsty bones.”

“I have no desire to usurp Xenon’s throne, I assure you.”

“I wish you would; maybe you would actually give me a discount every now and then.”

“Hm, maybe,” Fenris smiled slightly as he filled his bowl. It felt good to be joking with Hawke again. Whether it was because Hawke had decided to forgive him or because the mage had spoken to him as he had mentioned last night, Fenris was grateful. He owed the rogue much, and he was the closest thing to a friend the elf could remember having. Without Hawke he would still be running. Fenris paused his meal to consider his current companions. Hawke ate like a man starved; he always did. The rogue only ever acted with complete commitment. He was like a hurricane, and the rest of them were lucky to be in the eye of the storm rather than the destruction in its wake. The witch was wiping a chunk of potato from Hawke’s beard. She always meant well, but her path led only to destruction. The best he could hope was that she wouldn’t drag Hawke down with her when it happened.

Then there was the mage. The abomination. Anders. The firelight brought out the reddish tint in his hair, which as usual was half-falling out of its tie. The way the loose strands framed his pale face was undeniably attractive. He looked peaceful for the moment. Too often his face was haggard with exhaustion or pinched and angry as he argued about the Circle. It occured to Fenris that in neither of their encounters had he been able to watch the mage’s face as he climaxed. His cocked stirred as he imagined what it would look like for Anders to be lost in bliss underneath him. As if he could hear the elf’s thoughts, Anders looked up from his meal and met the warrior’s eyes. Fenris broke the gaze immediately, desperately hoping he wasn’t visibly blushing. These were foolish thoughts. For all of his unexpected generosity and kindness, the mage was possessed. He had willingly _allowed_ himself to become possessed. He was dangerous, and Fenris would do well not to forget that. He sighed and turned his attention to the surrounding area. Patchy scrub brush, flat ground stretching out for miles to the horizon. It looked like rain.


	6. Chapter 6

The rain began shortly after they had all retired to their bedrolls. Anders huddled under his coat as his tent steadily leaked. He had already resigned himself to a wet, sleepless night when he heard a rustling outside and a quiet hiss. Fenris was peering across at him through his tent flap. Anders blinked blearily. He could swear Fenris was gesturing at him, beckoning. This indeed proved to be the case. “Come here, mage,” came the whispered command. Hoping against hope, Anders held his coat over his head and approached the warrior’s tent. “There’s nothing to be gained by you exposing yourself to the elements and contracting pneumonia.”

“I didn’t tear up my tent on purpose, you know.”

“Get in.”

There was barely enough room in the tent for two people, intended as it was to sleep one. As soon as Anders wriggled in, Fenris lay on his side facing away from him.

“Thank you, Fenris.” A grunt was his only reply. The elf was warm and smelled of crushed grass and leather. Anders succumbed to sleep within minutes.

Fenris listened as Anders’ breathing evened out, letting the tension drain from his body as it became clear the mage would not be initiating anything. Sleep eluded him. He settled on his back, pressed against the human’s side by necessity. He was not accustomed to sharing such a tight space with anyone. Danarius kept Fenris this close to his body for one purpose only, and that thought eliminated any hope of relaxation. This mage was not Danarius, he reminded himself yet again. Anders was too kind, too gentle, and too idealistic to be a magister. Perhaps it was that kindness that made him blind to the evils that so many mages resorted to. His thoughts kept Fenris awake for an hour or two, but eventually his physical and emotional exhaustion caught up with him.

Fenris woke with a start, brands flaring. Someone was here. By reflex he lunged against the body pressing into him and flipped them to pin his assailant.

“Hey- What- Fenris, stop!”

The elf’s brands dimmed as he registered where he was and who he was currently straddling. He pulled back as if he’d been stung. “I...My apologies. I forgot myself.”

“And good morning to you too, Broody. Not exactly how I pictured starting the day, but you know what? I’ll take it. Next time, buy me breakfast first.”

“That isn’t - I thought we were under attack.”

“Not that I mind it a little rough, but I could use some advance notice.”

Fenris was certain he was red to the tips of his ears. “You are impossible. Are you giggling?”

“Nope, just a very manly chuckle.”

“I am leaving the tent and we shall never speak of this again.”

“Can I daydream about it, though?”

Fenris threw his hands up in a rude gesture that was mostly lost on the southerner and left the tent as promised. Anders grinned to himself as he took advantage of the privacy to construct an admittedly cliché fantasy of the elf pinning him to the bedroll and having his way with him. Breakfast could wait.


	7. Chapter 7

If Hawke and Merril noticed that the mage and warrior were sharing a tent, they said nothing. The day was spent clearing hordes of undead from the mines. So many slaves had died there in the preceding centuries that there was a nearly limitless supply of skeletons to be raised. Finally Hawke was able to sneak up behind the arcane horror responsible for the necromancy and slide a dagger into the base of its skull. The immediate danger was passed, but it would still take them the rest of the day to get the mine back into working order. Anders had plenty to do, treating miners for a wide variety of illness and infection. Fenris and Hawke did the heavy lifting while Merrill scanned the tunnels for any remaining walking corpses.

They were all completely bushed by sundown. The rain had abated into a light drizzle. Fenris cooked nug kebabs over the campfire, to which Merrill insisted he add a few mushrooms and root vegetables. “We can’t just eat meat, Fenris. It’s not healthy.” Fenris bit back a retort about the relative health benefits of blood magic. He was still worried about losing Hawke’s good graces. Insulting the man’s lover, however justified, would be a mistake. Instead, he finished the cooking in silence.

Anders was watching Fenris closely this evening, probably wondering if he would be invited back to the elf’s tent. The current drizzle was nothing compared to the torrent last night, but the mage’s tent was much the worse for wear. His hopeful puppy eyes were getting harder to ignore. Fenris waited for Hawke and Merrill to retire. Once they did, he removed his outer armor and crawled into his tent without speaking. Only after a few moments passed did he wordlessly open the tent flap and stare pointedly at Anders. A brief pantomime performed by the two of them confirmed that the mage was indeed to join the elf. A towel hit his face as he entered, accompanied by a curt “Dry off.”

“This really is awfully decent of you, Fenris. I’m grateful.”

“I am renowned throughout all of Thedas for my noblesse oblige.”

“Hah! Common, Tevene, Qunari, and now Orlesian, too? What don’t you speak?”

The warrior ducked his head almost shyly. “I only speak a few phrases in Orlesian. It’s difficult to learn without frequent exposure or the ability to read.”

“That’s right, I’d almost forgotten, seeing as how you shagged my brains out shortly after that particular revelation.”

Fenris’ slight embarrassment graduated into full-blown blushing mortification. It was adorable.

“Hey.” Anders placed his hand over the elf’s. Fenris twitched but did not withdraw. “I happen to be an excellent teacher. When we get back to Kirkwall I could help you with the basics. You’ll pick it up in no time.”

“I will consider it. Slaves are rarely allowed to learn any skill that might lead them to independent thought or self-sufficiency. I fear that reading is not the only thing I have yet to learn as a free man.”

“One step at a time. You’ve come such a long way already, Fenris. You won’t like the comparison, but in the Circle we weren’t taught much that would keep us alive in the real world. How to tell a demon “no” in a hundred different ways, that was drilled into our heads. How to light a fire without burning down a building.” Anders grimaced briefly at the memory. “But how to cook, how to ride, how to budget, how to even talk to people who weren’t mages or templars? None of that was important. They wanted us to be helpless.”

“How did you learn all those things? You survived in Kirkwall before you met Hawke.”

“The Wardens. That was a crash course in...pretty much everything I’d been missing out on. Except budgeting. I’m still hopeless at that.” He managed a little half-smile, which the warrior returned.

Anders realized that despite the sensitive subject matter, neither had insulted or dismissed the other all evening. He looked over to where their hands still touched. The lyrium lines that graced the elf’s fingers swirled up his sculpted arm, disappearing under his tunic and reappearing in a trail up his neck that Anders had recently become intimately acquainted with. That trail led directly to plush lips that were practically begging to be kissed. Anders leaned in, feeling the puff of Fenris’ breath on his face. For a moment he thought he would be accepted, but then Fenris turned his face to the side with a harsh gasp. “Don’t,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Should...should I leave?”

“That is not necessary.” Fenris punched his towel into a vaguely pillow-like shape. “We should sleep.”

“Right. Good plan.”

And despite the circumstances, they did.


	8. Chapter 8

_He was in his cell, naked and kneeling before Ser Viren. He felt dizzy and sick. Magebane. A gauntlet traced along his cheek until it reached his lips and pressed in with two fingers. The metal tasted of lyrium and decay. “Little mage slut,” the templar sneered, “Since you like it up the ass so much, I’ve brought some friends to enjoy you. They’re a little rough around the edges, but they’ll grow on you. You’ll be a good little whore for them, won’t you? Hmm?” Anders tried to pull back, but Viren’s armored fingers clenched, gripping his jaw inside and out. He could sense the darkspawn arriving. There were over a dozen of them, genlocks and hurlocks and even an ogre. “Such a slutty little bitch. I bet you’ll even like being their broodmother.” Viren - no, it was Meredith now- gripped him harder and spit in his mouth. The darkspawn swarmed around him, forcing him onto his back. Andraste’s sword, don’t let them touch me, please don’t let them do this, please - One of the hurlocks reached down to his shoulder and shook him. “Wake up!”_

Anders shuddered and opened his eyes to see the eerily luminescent gaze of the elf. “Maker, that was a bad one. Sorry, I forgot to warn you. You should probably wear ear plugs if I fall asleep near you.”

“There is no need for you to apologize for a nightmare. Besides, I sleep lightly. It was mostly the movement that woke me.”

“Ah. Well, thanks for waking me.” Anders wiped his mouth, trying to rid himself of the imagined taste of the templar’s gauntlet.

“Does this happen often?”

“Regular night terrors are one of the many benefits of being a Grey Warden. Funny how they don’t advertise that.”

Fenris toyed with his blanket uncomfortably. “I am unaccustomed to giving comfort. Is there anything I can do?”

The elf was acting like he cared. He was even offering support. Anders wondered if perhaps he was still dreaming. “Hug me?” The human cringed internally. Fenris had made his feelings on touching quite clear before they fell asleep. Why had he asked for something so stupid, as if they were two apprentices hiding in a blanket fort? His internal agitation was interrupted by the elf’s arm wrapping around his waist and pulling their bodies tightly together. Fenris was not looking at him, choosing to stare at the ceiling of the tent like he had never seen it before. Nevertheless, his arms were wrapped tightly around the mage. The elf was so warm, and so soft for someone who was all firm planes and sharp edges. Anders decided to tempt fate by wrapping his arms around the warrior’s chest and burying his face in a bronze shoulder. This was what he had been missing - simple skin to skin contact. It was foolish and self-indulgent to just want to be held, surely. But Anders had always craved human - or humanoid - connection. They lay like that until sleep claimed them once more.

Fenris bolted awake at Merrill’s cry of “Breakfast is ready, gentlemen!” His sudden movement dislodged Anders from the elf’s chest, which the mage had been using as a pillow. This time Fenris recalled where he was and why before embarrassing himself. So he thought until he realized that his morning wood had created its own impressive tent, one that Anders could not have failed to notice.

“I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely starving.” Husky from sleep, the mage’s voice caused Fenris’ ear to twitch and even more blood to rush south. The warrior cleared his throat and turned to his side, rearranging himself. The mage settled as well, facing Fenris, one arm propping up his head. Fenris dared a glance over his shoulder to see a soft smile on the man’s lips, honey brown eyes beaming. It was good to see him so relaxed after his nightmare. The tear tracks on his face had nearly undone the elf. He searched his mind for an intelligent reply. Preferably something dry and witty. Something that would make Anders’ breath hitch in his throat and leave him speechless. He had nothing. “I will see you at breakfast.” Fenris made his escape, embarrassment tinting the tips of his ears pink.


	9. Chapter 9

It was another non-stop day at the Darktown clinic. There had been an accident at the docks. His volunteers had done their best to triage the sailors and dockworkers as Anders reached for his last mana reserves to save the most critical. Most of the victims would need more help tomorrow, after he rested. Alone in his little room in the back of the clinic, Anders washed up and ate the half loaf of bread he had for dinner. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline. Still, he forced himself to lie down on his cot and practiced his breathing exercises. He had agreed to meet Fenris at his mansion for their first tutoring session tomorrow evening. It worried him how attached he was starting to feel to the elf. Only a couple of months ago they were at each others’ throats more often than not. There was no evidence that Fenris was any more favorably-disposed towards mages than he ever had been, or any more comfortable with Anders’ union with Justice. Yet he had treated the healer with gentleness on several occasions, had even held him after his nightmare. Anders was used to lusting after the elf, although he was never suicidal enough to act on it until that cursed room changed the game. Now, though, it was more than simple lust. He wanted to learn everything he could about the warrior. When they were not near each other, he dreamed of the elf. When they were near, he had to stop himself from touching. He wanted to truly know Fenris, to hold him and protect him from everything he had escaped. He wanted that and so much more. He had felt this way about Hawke once, before he realised that he didn’t stand a chance. Back then there was a part of himself that whispered “bad idea” every time he obsessed over the rogue. That voice was silent tonight, and he didn’t understand why. Fenris should be a bad idea, right? Perhaps it was all the injustice he had overcome by himself, how much more he could do now that he had allies. Injustice like that depraved magister who owned him. His skin crawled as he shied away from the images conjured by his imagination. He didn’t want to think about those, the way his worst memories intertwined with his own desire into a nightmarish picture of Fenris being used, tied down, hurt by the worst scum in Thedas. It was sickening, and he reminded himself it did not define who Fenris had become since his escape. Oh, that beautiful, brave, sensitive elf! He deserved so much better...

With an effort, Anders managed to put away those dark thoughts and pursue more pleasant avenues. This morning he had awoken from a dream of Fenris’ rich, sultry voice in his ear and lyrium-lined hand on his cock. Flashes of it returned throughout the day despite the stress and commotion. Anders palmed his organ lightly through his thin trousers. There was time now to indulge. He would make the most of it.

Anders pulled his trousers off and threw them at a nearby chair. His smalls were next. He pictured Fenris, the way he looked in the cursed room before he realized that Anders was watching him. Penis jutting out proudly from a hairless groin, abdominal muscles rippling, pecs flexing as he stretched. Lyrium pointing the way to his mouth, his nipples, the head of his cock. Lines Anders wanted to follow with his tongue, to worship that glorious body as Fenris deserved. Anders teased at himself, pinching the foreskin and sliding it up and down his shaft. The elf swallowing his erection whole, squeezing and sucking and kissing until the mage couldn’t see straight. The way he swallowed the healer’s cum like it was the red wine he so loved. Anders swiped his thumb over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of precum over the tip. Fenris on top of him, shining blue, the rays triggering something deep inside him that felt like home. He gripped himself firmly at last and began to stroke in earnest. He imagined whispering delicious, vulgar things to the warrior, inflaming him to the point that he lost all control and took Anders right there in the camp. The healer moaned and thrust into his hand with abandon. Fenris stroking him in time with his thrusts, telling the mage how good it feels. The waves of pleasure crested, and Anders came with the warrior’s name on his lips.

He cleaned himself with a convenient rag and stared at the ceiling. Andraste’s knickerweasels, how was he going to get through tomorrow’s reading lesson without embarrassing himself? It was likely that Fenris didn’t even want him. Maker knows his last attempt to kiss the prickly elf didn’t go well. He would just have to buck up and be a gods-damned professional. He could do this.


	10. Chapter 10

Slowly but surely, Fenris was making progress. Naming the letters was not difficult, nor was sounding out most words. Learning to read was easier than he had feared. Now, writing. That was a problem. How was anyone to guess how “weight” is spelled? There were too many rules, and too many exceptions to those rules. It was madness. His attempts to form the letters on paper were another embarrassment. Try as he might to copy what he saw on the page, his hands refused to perform the delicate little movements properly. His writing looked childish even to his own inexperienced eyes. Anders responded to his frustration with surprising patience, assuring him that everything would get easier with practice. The mage came twice a week to help him with his letters. Between the lessons, missions with Hawke, Wicked Grace parties, and Diamondback nights, Fenris’ evenings were full. It was a surprise to the introverted elf when he realized that he actually looked forward to Anders’ company. More and more he found himself thinking about the mage, whether it be to laugh at an amusing comment he’d made or to wonder if he had remembered to eat that day. When a nasty flu hit Darktown, Fenris showed up at the clinic with blankets and potion ingredients. When Hawke mentioned that Anders wanted to sneak into the gallows to dig up some dirt on a templar, Fenris surprised the rogue by volunteering to join them. Even when the demon revealed itself, the warrior’s first thought was for Anders’ safety. To be fair, he did have to choke down his natural revulsion when he saw that thing using the mage’s body like a puppet, but he was desperately relieved when Hawke talked him down and Anders was in control of his own body again.

Fenris followed the healer as he fled from the lyrium smugglers’ tunnels, giving him space but not allowing the mage out of his sight. He tailed the man back to his clinic and phased through the locked door. The mage jumped when he appeared. There were tears on his face.

“Maferath’s pinchy shoes, Fenris! What are you doing here? Come to tell me how you were always right about me? Come to kick the abomination while he’s down?”

The warrior shook his head. “What in my recent behavior makes you think I would take pleasure in your distress?”

“Tell the truth. Do you think I’m an abomination?” The last word was barely audible, just a choked sob.

“I...It is more complicated than that.”

“That’s a yes. And you’re not even wrong, not after today.”

“No, Anders, that is not what I meant. That’s not how I see you, not anymore. Your demon, or spirit, or whatever it is, it is not who you are.”

“Don’t you get it? He _is_ me! I’m him!”

“No! You are stronger than that.”

“I’m not. I wasn’t strong today. If Hawke hadn’t been there...”

“You stopped. _You_. If I had to physically restrain you to keep you from hurting that girl, I would have. But I didn’t need to. You were still in there. You stopped.”

“How...How can you still have faith in me?” The mage’s shoulders were shaking, more tears falling from his eyes.

Fenris never knew how to deal with tears. He reached for something to say to calm Anders, but instead he realized that there may be something he could _do_. The warrior closed the few steps separating them and threw his arms around the man. He cradled him as he had done after the mage’s nightmare. Anders stiffened in shock, then relaxed and tentatively returned the embrace. “You are not only the strongest mage I know. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met.”

Anders sniffed. “You should meet yourself sometime. Thank you, Fenris. I know you won’t let me lose myself to him.”


	11. Chapter 11

Varric’s birthday celebration was always the most talked-about event in Lowtown. The ale flowed, the food was humble but plentiful, and there was always an ice sculpture. Each year, Varric commissioned one of the local artists to make a centerpiece, and it had become an annual competition to one-up last year’s artist. This year’s ice sculpture portrayed Varric riding astride a young dragon, brandishing Bianca with a fearsome expression on his face. Varric held court below, spinning his tales and leading toasts.

Sebastian and Fenris sat in the corner nearest the fire, chatting amicably. The archer could be good company when he wasn’t proselytizing. Fenris had always admired his sincerity. After a couple of drinks, he was more likely to speak of his childhood and errant teenaged years than his current devotion to the faith. Sebastian interrupted his own anecdote about falling off a horse the first time he tried to shoot from the saddle, by nudging the warrior’s arm. “See that pretty elf over there? The blonde? She can’t take her eyes off you.”

“Why? Do I have wine stains on my clothes?”

Sebastian laughed heartily. “No, my friend. She’s hot for you. She’s practically salivating. Watch.”

Before Fenris could stop him, Sebastian was waving over the woman in question. She was about his age, maybe a little older, with blue eyes and dimples when she smiled. She wore the kind of clothes most residents of the alienage wore, but her bodice was artfully tailored to compliment her figure. She smiled widely at Fenris as she approached, dimples on full display. The warrior remained silent as Sebastian and the woman exchanged pleasantries. Her name was Lisette, she was a seamstress, and she had moved to Kirkwall from Ostwick a year ago. And she dearly would love to know how Fenris was enjoying the party.

Fenris allowed himself to be drawn into the conversation, although he grew increasingly wary as she tended to touch him when she spoke. It was just fingers on his arm, but every time she did it, it bothered him more. Sebastian had moved off, no doubt as a misguided attempt to give them privacy. His responses became shorter and less polite, but she wasn’t taking the hint. She was asking him whether he would like to go outside for some air when Isabela appeared out of nowhere and plopped herself down on his lap.

“Hey there, loverboy. Miss me?”

“I have rarely been more delighted to see you.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet. Give us a kiss, darling!”

Fenris glanced between the pirate and the unhappy expression on the other young woman’s face. He looked back at Isabela’s twinkling eyes and leaned in. As kisses went, it was...fine. The pirate tasted of rum and something slightly earthy. There was no gut-punch of emotion like when he’d kissed Anders. As the kiss ended, Lisette stammered out an excuse and made a hasty retreat.

“Well now, I’d say that was a great success! She ran off with her tail between her legs. I don’t suppose you’d like to continue this, by any chance?”

“No. Thank you, but that is quite enough for me, Isabella.”

“Suit yourself, sweet thing. I happen to have a date lined up with two handsome gentlemen and their lovely lady friend later this evening. Consider the kiss my payment for services rendered.” With a quick pat to his cheek, the pirate sauntered off into the crowd.

The increased guard presence in Lowtown for the revelry meant they were spread thin at the Docks that night. Anders was able to shepherd three mages to a waiting ship. Isabella had made the arrangements and vouched for the captain’s trustworthiness. All that remained now was to return to Varric's party as if he had never left. Hawke, Isabella, and Varric were all prepared to swear he’d been with them the entire evening

Breathing a sigh of relief, Anders got himself a mug of ale and scanned the room for Isabella. She was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his eye was caught by a certain white-haired elf sitting by the fire. Maker, the way the firelight caught his markings was entrancing! His strong jaw in profile deserved to be immortalized by the greatest artists of the Dragon Age. The warrior was speaking to an elven woman Anders didn’t recognize. They seemed to know each other well, considering how she leaned in to touch his arm every now and then. As the mage wracked his brain for who she might be the scene suddenly changed. There was Isabella at long last, sitting in Fenris’ lap. That was unusual. The pirate talked big, but she didn’t usually disturb other people’s personal space. And Fenris’ personal space requirements were legendary. Before Anders could completely process the scene, the elf leaned in and kissed Isabella.

Anders swallowed hard. He reminded himself that he had no real claim on the elf. Fenris had made it pretty clear in the tent at the bone pit that friendship was the most he had to offer. Even so, the mage had to quash the urge to send a lightning bolt straight at Isabella’s head. He watched the pirate pat the warrior’s cheek and saunter off with an extra swagger in her step. Maybe tonight would be the night Justice finally let him get drunk.


	12. Chapter 12

Fenris quite liked Donnic and Aveline. They were good, solid people with good, solid jobs and a good, solid attitude towards magic. He quite liked this ale, too. Usually he preferred wine, but this brew was definitely growing on him as the evening progressed. Varric always did have good taste, and his party was no exception, Donnic kindly topped him off. Aveline was relaying the story of how she led a rout of blood mages who had holed up in a warehouse at the docks.

“But when I asked Anders if he knew anything about them, he just insisted there was no proof they were actually blood mages. Tell that to the rage demon that nearly got Brennan!”

Fenris grimaced as he considered the mage’s unfounded optimism. “Anders is dangerously naive sometimes. He’ll get himself used as a blood sacrifice if he remains so cavalier about his fellow mages.”

“I don’t see him changing anytime soon, especially with Hawke egging him on.”

“Hawke sees his sister in nearly every mage he meets. He doesn’t understand that few mages are as strong as Bethany. Neither of them understand how magic can corrupt.” Concern gnawed at Fenris. At least Hawke, when proven wrong about a given maleficar, was ready and able to put them down. Anders may well hold on to his delusions until it was too late. What if Anders was killed because he trusted the wrong mage? Fenris needed to talk to him. Convince him to be more careful. Maybe kiss him too, recapture what he could not find in Isabella’s kiss. Convince him, kiss him. Fenris drained his mug. It was a good plan.

Fenris found his mage locked in a heated debate with Merrill about creation magic. Both gesticulated wildly as they butted heads. It was almost amusing, but Fenris had a mission. “Anders. I must speak with you.”

The human slammed his cup down on a nearby table. “Speak with me? Maybe you should be speaking with Isabella.”

Merrill took his discarded cup and inspected its contents. Satisfied, she took a swig. “Yes, we should talk to Isablea...Isabella! She knows plenty of things! Maybe even about where barriers come from. Ooh, let’s find her!”

Fenris frowned. “I spoke to Isabella earlier. It’s you I want to ...talk to, Anders.

“Too bad; I’m busy.”

This was not going as the warrior had planned. He ran his gauntlet-clad fingers through his hair distractedly. “Venhedis! Just come.” With that, he grabbed the mage by the front of his coat, hauled him to his feet, and marched him out of the Hanged Man.

Fenris was impervious to Anders’ slightly slurred complaints. He did not release the human until they were several blocks away. Anders shoved the elf by his chest plate, but despite his size advantage the gesture accomplished little.

“Fuck off, Fenris! I was finally enjoying myself in there. Go back to your pirate girlfriend and let me finish drowning myself in ale.”

“Isabella is not my girlfriend, fool mage!”

“Oh, well, I guess you just make out with all your friends! My fault for thinking it was just me. Do you suck them all off too?”

Fenris slammed Anders against the alley wall by the shoulders. His voice came out as a hiss. “Shut your mouth.” The mage looked like he was about to say something, but his gaze became unfocused and he closed his mouth again. He licked his lips as his eyelids fluttered closed. Fenris’ mouth crashed into his. It was clumsy and harsh, almost more teeth than lips. Anders gasped and brought one hand up to the back of the elf’s neck as his other arm wound around Fenris’ waist. The mage pulled the elf tightly to him and took control of the kiss.

 _This_ was what Fenris was missing. This was heat and tension and _want_ and everything this night’s earlier kiss was not. He moaned and stroked his hands down the mage’s back until he was cupping and kneading those firm buttocks.

“Andraste’s silken nighties, Fenris - you will be the death of me.” Anders’ voice was harsh and low. “Take me to your mansion.”


	13. Chapter 13

Anders’ clothes and Fenris’ armor littered the staircase. The master bedroom was dark and cold, but the mage ignited a roaring fire in the hearth with a simple gesture.

“No magic,” Fenris growled, backing the human towards the bed.

“Want to tie me up again, too?” The back of Anders knees hit the mattress. The elf shoved his bare torso hard, and he sprawled onto the bed. “I’d let you,” he added breathlessly. “I’d let you do just about anything.”

A sharp intake of breath was Fenris’ only response as he peeled off his tunic and leggings. He was glad that he rarely wore underclothes, as his erection escaped its confines with ease.

The look the mage was giving him went straight to his groin. He shifted his attention to Anders’ pants and straining smalls, making short work of them. “I thought you didn’t like ‘unnecessary roughness.’”

“That was when I thought you wanted to hurt me.”

Fenris gripped the man’s bare thighs and pulled them apart in one harsh movement, settling between them. “And now?”

“Now I know I’m safe with you. And I want everything you can give me.”

The elf wrapped his hand around the human’s long cock and began to work it expertly. Anders gasped and moaned and murmured words of encouragement. He pulled Fenris’ head down for another kiss. When their lips and tongue parted again, Fenris redoubled his efforts to reduce the mage to incoherence. Precum began to dribble from the swollen tip, and Fenris’ own cock throbbed with need. He trailed his moistened fingers down below the human’s balls and probed the skin there. “I want to fuck you.”

“Maker, Fenris, _yes_.”

The elf pulled back and placed a quick kiss on the inside of Anders’ knee. “Stay here.” He rummaged through a drawer until he found the bottle of oil he kept there. It was really for maintenance of his armor, but it would do for his present purpose. He took a moment when he returned to the bed to appreciate the sight before him. Anders’ hair was loose and spread onto the pillow like a golden halo. He was thin, but there were beautifully defined muscles in his chest, arms and legs. A trail of darker hair led down to his sack and the heavy penis curving up his abdomen. His spread legs offered just a glimpse of what lay between his cheeks. The elf looked up again to see his mage’s eyes focused on him. Holding his gaze, the man very deliberately brought his hand down to stroke his own organ. He spread his legs further and, still watching Fenris, brought a spit-slicked finger to his hole.

Fenris watched Anders penetrate himself like a man hypnotized. It was the most erotic thing he could remember seeing. To think that he wanted this, wanted Fenris! He could not wait any longer. Spilling oil hastily on his fingers, he pulled the mage’s hand aside and replaced it with his own. He pressed two fingers in, taking Anders’ cock into his mouth at the same time to lessen the sting. The mage moaned and took hold of Fenris’ hair, the insistent pulling just short of painful. Fenris plunged a third finger into the man’s pliant body. When he found the spot that made Anders cry out and pull his hair harder, he pounded it ruthlessly. The mage writhed and whimpered and tried to press further into his mouth and further onto his fingers at the same time. The elf relaxed his throat and took his mage to the root. Large hands were holding his head, stroking his ears as hips thrust erratically. It should have been disturbing, should have made him recoil, but Anders’ loud moans and musky taste filled his senses, blocking everything else out.

“Fen- Fen- Oh please, Fen!” The elf’s fingers made little circular thrusts over that sensitive spot within Anders as he allowed the man to fuck his throat. The human’s breathy pleas became a keening cry as he came in hot, thick spurts that Fenris adeptly swallowed. The elf came up gasping as Anders stroked his face gently. “You have got to teach me how to do that someday, Fenris.”

The elf let his bangs fall over his eyes as his face flushed. “We shall see.” He snatched up the oil again and spread it liberally over his cock. “Are you ready for me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

Fenris groaned as his member breached the mage’s relaxed hole. The sensation was indescribable. So slick, so hot, so right. His intention to go slow was lost as he buried himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. Anders reached for him, pulled the elf down over his body and held him tight. Fenris gasped and bit down onto the juncture of the human’s neck and shoulder as he began to move. He pistoned his hips relentlessly, lost to the sensation. This was better, far better than the first time. Anders was whimpering with need and digging his nails into the elf’s strong biceps, driving him wilder with every broken syllable. He raised himself up on his arms for better leverage as he thrust with abandon. “Please,” Anders cried as he pulled Fenris into another bruising kiss. The warrior felt his orgasm approach with the inevitability of a wave crashing on the sand. A sharp noise escaped him as pure ecstasy erupted in his body. His brands flared in sympathy, and he kept on rocking into Anders until every last tremor was past.

Anders may have already come, but the way the elf was taking him, hard and savage and wild, was bringing him far on his way to another peak. Then the lyrium lit up inside him, unexpectedly forcing pleasure through every nerve ending in his body. His mouth opened in a soundless scream as his second orgasm was pulled from him so suddenly and violently that he lost consciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

Fenris collapsed onto his mage. He nuzzled the human’s cheek fondly as he shifted to the side, transferring his weight off the other man. He could feel a wetness on his belly and realized with surprise what it must be. The mage had not yet moved, and his eyes were closed. Hesitantly, Fenris reached out to stroke the man’s stubbled chin. “Anders?”

There was no response. The human’s stillness was unnatural. A spike of fear rose in Fenris as he grabbed his partner’s shoulder and shook it. “Anders! Anders, answer me! What happened?! Please, mage!” Fade-blue eyes snapped open.

Fenris launched himself backwards, but a preternaturally strong hand around his wrist prevented escape.

“ **Do not be afraid. I will not harm you.** ”

“I do not fear you, demon!” Fenris spat as he lit his brands again.

More blue cracks appeared in Anders’ skin. Holding tight to the elf’s wrist with one hand, the spirit reached out with the other to trace the glowing lines on Fenris’ chest. The warrior snarled and glared at the creature in Anders’ skin, but managed not to flinch.

“ **You sing of home... I remember. I remember what it was like, before the flesh. Before the cacophony of the material world. How I miss it…** ”

“Then go back. Leave Anders and return to the Fade, where you belong!”

“ **It is not so simple.** ” Justice pulled the elf’s captured hand to his lips. “ **We are too intertwined. I am grateful, however, to be reminded who I was before. Who I am supposed to be.** ” With that, he kissed the elf’s palm and closed his eyes. When the lids fluttered open again, it was Anders’ warm brown eyes that regarded Fenris with confusion.

“Fenris? I...I think I passed out.”

The elf extricated his hand from the mages’ grip. “Your spirit made an appearance.”

“What? How? Did we do anything? Are you alright?”

“I am unharmed. It seemed to just want to talk.” Fenris slipped into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a wet cloth. “It did not behave as I would have expected.”

“Justice is a he, not an it. What did he say?”

“It said that I ‘sing of home.’” Fenris passed the cloth to Anders, who took it gratefully.

“He must’ve meant the lyrium. What you did - lighting up inside me. It was...intense. Maybe too intense.”

“I apologize. It was not deliberate. I shall restrain myself in the future.”

The mage smirked at him. “In the future, eh? So certain there will be a repeat performance?”

“I...Fasta vass, I didn’t mean -”

Anders cut him off with a finger over the elf’s lips. “You’re so cute when you get flustered. No need to panic; I was just teasing.”

Fenris plucked at his blanket absently, eyes downcast. “I do not understand how you can find this amusing. For a moment, before your spirit appeared, I thought you were dead. I...thought I had killed you somehow.”

“Oh, Fen.” The human pulled the warrior to his chest in a soft embrace. “No matter how completely you blow my mind in bed, you aren’t going to kill me with sex.”

The elf allowed himself to be held, unused as he was to physical affection. “I hope you know, I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I believe you.” Anders pulled Fenris down so they lay cuddled up together. He ran his fingers through the elf’s hair in soothing motions until they drifted off.


	15. Chapter 15

Anders awoke with first light. He would be needed at his clinic soon, he knew. One glance at the elf sprawled next to him on the sheet, however, and he decided he could be late just this once. The warrior had shoved his blankets off at some point during the night. His nude form was just about the most glorious sight the mage had ever seen. The lyrium patterns accentuated his toned muscles, swirling around his limbs in a graceful dance, like a living thing. Anders wanted to trace the lyrium’s circuitous course with his tongue. Maybe someday Fenris would allow it. Every part of the elf was simply beautiful. Anders ran a hand up his lover’s thigh slowly, appreciating the satiny feel of his dusky skin, interrupted only by the slight ridges of his lyrium. As the mage’s hand travelled from thigh to hip, the elf’s instincts began to respond. His well-formed cock filled with blood as the mage watched. He did not waken, but as the mage’s fingers travelled over him his increasing arousal was undeniable.

Anders noted the effect he was having on the elf with considerable interest. Surely it was alright to merely touch? He wrapped his fingers around the now heavy organ and squeezed gently. A bead of precum formed on the tip. He bent down to catch it on his tongue. In for a silver, in for a sovereign, he thought as he licked a stripe down one of the lyrium tendrils that embraced the shaft. He settled into a more comfortable position and began to suck in earnest. One hand worked the base of Fenris’ cock as he lavished attention on everything his mouth could reach. He might not have the mastery over his gag reflex that Fenris did, but this was a skill he prided himself on, with or without the addition of certain...stimulating spells. He didn’t need magic to do this well. Ander’s left hand moved to palm his own erection, and he was soon rutting into it as he continued to pleasure the elf. Maker, what he would give to bury himself inside that tight ass! It wasn’t going to happen, of course, but that’s what fantasies are for.

Fenris’ hips began to rock and his body twitched, just on the verge of waking. A quiet moan escaped his lips as Anders redoubled his efforts. The mage pictured himself flipping the warrior over and pushing into him slowly, imagined the elf’s moans were due to him moving inside, stroking him inside and out. When the mage swirled his tongue around the head this time, Fenris gasped and opened his eyes. He tensed for half a second, then took a deep breath and relaxed into the mattress. He raised his hands to Anders’ head and lightly stroked the mage’s scalp, much as he had done the first time the human had done this for him. The mage moaned around his cock. He watched as Anders closed his eyes in bliss, evidently enjoying this as much as Fenris was. It wasn’t much longer before he felt his climax approach. “Anders, so good, so good, I’m going to come…”

The mage pulled off Fenris’ cock but did not fully retreat. He finished the warrior with a few long pumps of his fist, and Fenris watched with awe as his release coated the mage’s face and open mouth.

Anders rose to his knees and, face still streaked with semen, stroked himself until his own come painted Fenris’ abdomen and legs.

Feeling immensely satisfied, Anders plopped himself down next to his lover. “Now, that’s what I call a good morning.”

“Indeed. Messy, but good.” Fenris smiled and wiped a drop of semen off his mage’s cheek. “If you like, you are welcome to use the bath here.”

“That sounds perfect. And if I need to bathe sometime in the future? I could make it worth your while.” The mage had the audacity to actually wink at him.

“Hmm. I would hate for you to be dirty around your vulnerable patients. I suppose I have no choice but to tolerate your presence.” There was no bite to the words, only a sort of dry amusement.

Anders did eventually make his way back to Darktown, where many of his patients remarked on the silly grin he wore throughout the day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only chapter with actual rape in it. It's a memory.

Hadriana was dead. That bitch was dead, but Danarius was still out there, still hunting him. Fenris paced the ground floor of his mansion like a panther in a cage. He had apologized to Hawke for letting his anger get the better of him, but alone at home the rage rose inside him again. He needed to break things. There was little of the original furniture that had not already been splintered. _What does magic touch that it doesn’t spoil?_ Anders couldn’t have looked more hurt if Fenris had simply punched him. _Is that why I said it? To drive him away?_ It was dangerous to let a mage too close. Dangerous, and foolish, and he should know better. His heart ached. He would not apologize.

Stripped of everything but his leggings and gauntlets, Fenris let out his frustration on the one good chair in the sitting room. He clawed the cushions, pulled apart the wooden pieces, and smashed the larger ones with his sword. This was the sight that greeted Anders when he let himself in.

“I thought we should sit down and talk, but I see that won’t be happening.” The mage sounded tired, and there was a wary look on his face.

“You should not be here.”

“Well. I am.”

“If you are hoping for a retraction of what I said, you’ll be disappointed.”

“I see. Magically-spoiled idiot that I am, I’m not leaving. Somehow you’ve become important to me. As bull-headed as you are, I still don’t like seeing you in pain.”

The warrior suddenly strode forward and pushed Anders roughly against the wall. “I do not belong to you! My welfare is none of your concern.”

The human placed his hand on the elf’s chest, unsure whether he was trying to make a connection or hold the warrior back. “Being free doesn’t mean being alone. You have friends who care about you. You have _me_ , Maker help me. Even when you can’t seem to tell the difference between the people who tortured you and the people who fight for you.”

Fenris’ grip on the mage’s shoulders tightened as the man spoke. His bright green eyes glistened with unshed tears even as his lip curled into a snarl. Anders decided to take a calculated risk. Hooking one finger under the elf’s chin, he tilted Fenris face up to meet his in a bruising kiss. The warrior stiffened but did not pull away. Anders’ tongue brushed against his partner’s lips, lightly at first but soon becoming demanding. Fenris surrendered with a groan, opening his mouth to the mage’s ministrations. He was at his emotional limit, teetering over a precipice with no view of the ground below. With a harsh sob, he pressed into the mage and kissed him all the harder. Anders held him tightly, rubbing soothing circles into his back. When they paused for breath, Fenris sank to his knees before the mage. His clawed gauntlets made quick work of the thin trousers and smalls. Anders gasped at the feeling of the elf’s hot breath on his most sensitive skin.

“Fen- Fenris. You don’t have to do this right now.” The elf ignored him, nuzzling his member and coaxing it to hardness. “Really, Fenris, I’m not sure - nnnng!” Whatever the elf had just done with his tongue stole the words out of Anders’ mouth. He gave up all thought of resistance as he watched Fenris’ lips stretch wide to accommodate his engorged cock. The elf reached for Anders’ hands blindly. Upon finding them, he pulled them to his head in silent invitation. Anders tried to be good, he really did, but he was just a man. “Is this what you want?” he asked as he tightened his grip on his lover’s head and began to guide him. Fenris hummed in response, clutching at the human’s hips to anchor himself. The mage escalated his control gradually, watching for any sign of reluctance. Fenris felt blissfully lightheaded as the human used him more confidently. This was familiar. Safe. He knew what was expected of him, and he would provide it.

_Fenris swallowed as best he could at every stroke, as his Master fucked into his throat. He didn’t try to fool himself that he could bring Master to completion this way tonight. He’d been given the potion this morning. He was cleaned out, pure again for his Master’s dick. The oversized plug in his ass had been a constant reminder of what was to come throughout the entire senate meeting this afternoon. “Such a good boy, Fenris, my little Fenris. It pains me that I had to punish you today. You’re doing so well tonight, my boy. I’ll have that nasty plug out of you soon and give you something so much better.” Tendrils of magic flowed between Master’s fingers and the lyrium along his neck, sending jolts of burning pain throughout his body. “Tell me how much you want me to take you, Fenris.” He pulled out, allowing the elf to breathe._

  
_“I need you, Master. I need you inside me. Please!” Please Maker, let him finish quickly._

  
_“You shall have me, little one. Get on the bed.”_

  
_Fenris obediently lay face down on the bed, legs slightly parted._

  
_“Mm, that’s my good boy. Now to take out that nasty little toy...After this holding you open all day, I do hope you’re not too loose.”_   
_Fenris willed himself not to tense up. Any hint of resistance would only make this worse. He felt the plug exit him, quickly replaced by his Master’s finger. Master’s other hand came down sharply on his left cheek, then kneaded it roughly._

  
_“No, no, this certainly won’t do. How shall I fix this, Fenris?”_

  
_“With your magic, Master.”_

  
_“An excellent idea.”_

  
_He felt a familiar heat beginning at the finger in his ass and slowly spreading throughout his body. It was pleasantly warm to start, but as it spread it heated up more and more, until he felt like he was being roasted alive. He willed himself to be still, but he allowed a few pained cries to escape his lips. Master liked to hear him. The heat broke as the spell completed. It had only been a minute or so, but Fenris panted as if he’d been engaged in battle._

  
_“There, all better. You’re nice and tight again for me, my little wolf.”_

  
_Fenris spread his legs further and soon felt the head of his Master’s cock pressing in, too big, too hard._

  
_“That’s right, my pet. Don’t hold back. Scream for me.”_

“Fenris? Fen! Come on, look at me. Open your eyes, sweetheart.” There was an arm around his torso, propping him up. His cheeks were wet. His breaths came in harsh gasps, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air. A warm hand cradled his face.

Anders sat on the dusty floor with a lap-full of hyperventilating elf, murmuring reassurances and pleas. He wasn’t even sure if Fenris could hear him. One moment he had been chasing his release, a sinful mouth driving him to new heights of pleasure. The next, there were tears falling from glassy, unseeing eyes. Anders had pulled out immediately, but it appeared the damage was done. The elf had collapsed, semi-conscious, onto the tiled floor. His instinct was to cast a healing spell, but Fenris’ aversion to magic stayed his hand.

Between sobbing breaths, the elf began to mutter fragmented words in Tevene. Most of it was indecipherable, but to Anders’ dismay the word “Domine” was prominently featured. The human rocked him gently and stroked his face in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. He needed to move Fenris to someplace more comfortable, find a way to calm him down. He tucked himself back into his shredded pants as best he could. A quick spell to bolster his strength made it a simple endeavor to pick the warrior up bridal-style and carry him upstairs to the bedroom. He set Fenris down on the mattress, whereupon the elf curled into a fetal position. He set to work removing the warrior’s gauntlets. Anders began to speak again, in the hope that something would get through to the panicked elf. “You’re safe here, love. Nobody’s going to hurt you; I won’t allow it.” He shucked off his shoes and curled up against his partner’s trembling body, tucking the elf’s head under his chin and petting his hair. “It’s going to be okay, Fenris.” He wished he believed that. “You can talk to me, or not. I’ll be here for you anyway.”

They stayed that way for over an hour before Fenris made any sign of knowing where he was. “‘Nders?”

“Yes, love?”

Fenris’ hand sought his and held tight, but his did not speak again for several minutes. When he began, his voice was ragged and barely audible.

“I always tried to make him come that way. It hurt less than the alternative.”

Anders’ breath hitched and he squeezed the elf’s hand tighter. “Do you...see me that way? Please tell me you don’t see me as a stand-in for him.” His own voice tightened as he held back tears.

“No...You are no magister. You never could be.” Fenris snuggled closer, using his free arm to hold the human against him. “I do not deserve you.”

“No.” Anders guided Fenris’ face up to look him in the eye. “You deserve far better than me. But I will do my best to become worthy of you.”

“I do not understand.”

“Honestly? I’m not sure I do either. But I’m not sure I need to. For the past few years I have been fighting tirelessly for my fellow mages, with no energy to spare for other people, or even myself. You remind me that there is much in the world worth protecting, so much outside of my own limited experience. I _will_ help the mages. But I will not let that cause blind me to other injustices. I will be here for you. I will help Hawke make this city a better place. When the time comes for you to face Danarius, I will be at your side.”

Fenris regarded him with wide eyes. He studied the mage’s face as if he were seeing it for the first time. Finally he spoke. “As I will be at yours.”


	17. Chapter 17

Anders was particularly careful afterwards to always be gentle, never taking a dominant position. He would not allow Fenris to fellate him for longer than a few minutes at a time. When they were together, he was always receptive and eager for the elf to mount him. Anders’ days were spent at the clinic or hunting down Tal Vashoth and his nights were filled with Fenris. Fenris struggling through the penning of a letter to his sister. Fenris waxing poetic about a bottle of wine that, to Anders, just tasted grapey. Fenris behind him, panting into his ear. Fenris holding him down, his powerful muscles flexing as he thrust.

Some nights they were apart. The mage underground still needed Anders. Often Hawke would invite one or both of them on a mission. Wicked Grace nights typically ended so late that neither had the energy to do more than fall into bed and pass out. They did not announce their relationship to their friends, but it was hard to miss the way they would arrive and leave at the same time, or the secret smiles they shared. Isabella and Varric would both pry for details at any opportunity, but were rarely satisfied. Hawke pulled Anders aside for a heart-to-heart a couple of times before he was finally convinced to mind his own business. It helped abate Hawke’s wariness that Merrill thought they were adorable.

Anders knew he was in love when Fenris volunteered to help him smuggle three young apprentices out of the Gallows. Well, he didn’t phrase it that way. What he actually said was, “If you insist on throwing your life away for some strange mages you don’t even know, I might as well be there to pick up the pieces.” It was good to have the backup, as there proved to be a lyrium drop that night. The tunnels were full of smugglers and their contacts, none of whom were able to stand up to the pair of them. They made a good team in combat. Any time an assailant tried to attack Anders, the elf would somehow be there between them. If Fenris sustained so much as a scratch, the mage channeled healing magic into him. Active combat was Fenris’ one exception to his “no magic” rule. The pain in his markings was more easily ignored with adrenaline rushing through his system.

The mage pounced on Fenris as soon as they made it back to the mansion, expressing his gratitude with a striptease and a particularly enthusiastic blow job. They cuddled afterward, giving Fenris a moment to recover before attending to his lover. The elf stroked his mage’s arm dreamily. “How would you like me to pleasure you?”

“Hmm, you could use those beautiful hands of yours. I could fuck your fist while you bugger me with your fingers. Then maybe if you’re up for it, I could ride you until you can’t see straight.”

“You have such a filthy mouth, mage. It’s positively...delicious.”

“Mm, wait until you try the other end.”

Fenris half-choked on a laugh.

The human kissed his elf’s neck as he stroked his own erection slowly. “I can’t wait to feel you pulsing inside me, pumping into me so hard I can think of nothing else, taking me apart.”

“You...really do enjoy it? Being penetrated?”

“Whatever could have given you that impression?”

“Mage, be serious.”

“Oh, if I must.” Anders pulled himself up to lean close to his partner’s pointed ear. “I do like it. In fact, I love it. I love the feel of you moving inside me. I love it when you make me writhe on your fingers or your cock. I love feeling you lose control because of me.” I love you. He did not say it.

The elf turned towards him, searching his eyes for the truth. Finding what he was looking for, he glanced down almost shyly and intertwined their fingers. “Do you also like it the other way around?”

Anders’ heart skipped a beat. Fenris should not, could not be offering this. Maker, he wouldn’t lie to the elf, but how could he navigate this tangle without hurting him one way or another? “I…” The mage cleared his throat nervously. “Of course I like it, but I don’t need it. I’m perfectly happy with the way things are.”

The warrior met his gaze again. “Maybe I want to feel what you feel.”

“Maker, Fenris I...I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to do anything you might regret.”

“I know it would be different with you. I trust you, Anders.”

How could he stay strong against a declaration like that? “I will think on it. You should, too. Be sure this is really what you want.”

“I have already thought on it. Lately I have thought of little else. But I will wait until you agree the time is right.”

“Good. Thank you.” Anders took Fenris’ face in his hand and kissed him soundly. The elf returned the kiss eagerly, deepening it as he pressed his mage down onto the mattress. All thoughts of the future were lost as the heat rose between them. Anders did not get to ride the warrior that night after all, for Fenris took full control. With the mage’s calves resting on his shoulders, he slaked his need in Anders’ body, fucking him with a determination and intensity that left them both breathless. “Fenris,” the mage moaned. “Need you, please, please...you can light up, want it, want you, please!” With a groan, Fenris emptied himself into his lover, brands shining like fadelight. Anders’ organ responded immediately, spurting thick white ropes over his own abdomen even as his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

By the time Anders awoke, his spend had been cleaned up, and his elf was curled around him rather like Ser Pounce-a-Lot used to do. “You’re back,” the warrior purred.

“I certainly am. Any visits from friendly Fade spirits this time?”

“No, you simply slept. You looked peaceful.”

“I feel good. Rejuvenated, even. I don’t think that’s something we should be doing every day, but just now it was exactly what I needed.”

Fenris smiled one of his rare sweet smiles and settled into his mage’s arms. They both slept well that night.


	18. Chapter 18

Daily life in Kirkwall proceeded as it always did. A serial killer was targeting attractive older women. Tranquil roamed the gallows in eerily calm hordes. A giant bug-monster was killing Dalish hunters. Demons were spotted piloting a cargo ship straight into the lighthouse. Anders wrote reams of material for his manifesto, which he incorporated into his reading lessons with Fenris until the warrior threatened to quit entirely “if you keep up this ham-fisted attempt at indoctrination.” That led to an argument and a week of passive-aggressive sniping at each other. Isabella suggested they resolve their differences through a pay-to-view naked mud-wrestling match. She would be the one selling tickets, of course. Aveline countered with an offer to pay them to keep their clothes on. It was unclear whether she approved of the mud-wresting part.

The stand-off finally ended when the Varterral impaled Anders’ chest, puncturing a lung and nearly ending him for good. Hawke finished off the insect while Fenris desperately poured healing potions into his lover’s mouth. In the end it was not the potions that saved him. Blue light knit together the torn tissue until not even a scar remained. Fenris whispered his first ever thanks to the spirit possessing his mage as he cradled a dazed Anders in his arms.

Reading lessons were reinstated, with mage rights allowed as a topic no more than once per fortnight. The night of Anders’ near-death experience, the warrior simply held him. Anders insisted that he was fine, but Fenris was shaken. He spent the night with his face nuzzled into his mage’s neck and his hand on Anders’ chest where the mortal wound had been. He did not want to think about what would become of him if he lost his partner. He did not think in terms of love. Even friendship was nearly a foreign concept to the runaway slave. All he knew was that he could not bear to lose what he had found with Anders.

The next day, the mage woke him with a kiss and a hand rubbing his morning wood. Fenris took him with exquisite gentleness, without any of the wildness that characterized so many of their couplings. With slow, deliberate thrusts, he built upon the mounting pleasure radiating from Anders’ core, keeping him just on the edge of release. He parted his lips from his partners’ only to lever his body up to look upon the feast before him. Kneeling, pulling the human’s hips to meet his thrusts, he watched his human through heavy-lidded eyes. “Touch yourself, Anders. I want to see you.”

Anders moaned, eyes fluttering between open and closed, as his took himself in hand and worked his penis in time with the elf’s strokes. Fenris’ dick was hard and unyielding inside him, nudging his prostate with every deliberate movement. “So good, love, you’re so good.” He tried to draw it out, but as he rubbed his foreskin over and off of his cock’s dripping head the sensation crashed over him, uncontrollable. He stiffened and gasped as he came, not bothering to catch the semen so that Fenris could watch it paint his chest and abdomen with proof of his desire. The intensity of the elf’s rapt attention served to draw his climax out for a few more blissful pulses. “Yesss,” the warrior groaned, holding Anders’ ass flush against his groin, rolling his hips as the full length of his cock enjoyed the rhythmic clenching of his partners’ orgasm.

“Let go, love, I have you.” Anders’ larger human hand found the elf’s where it tightened around his hip. Fenris keened softly, leaned down and kissed his mage deeply as he finally crested his own peak.

They lay together in comfortable silence for several minutes, Anders brushing his fingers along the lyrium lining the elf’s arms. Fenris spoke first. “I thought I was losing you. I am no stranger to pain, but that I could not bear.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Fenris. No matter the difficulty, even if the whole world were against us. Nothing can stop me loving you.” Oops. Idiot, don’t scare him away!

The elf looked solemn. “Love? I am not certain I know what love is.”

 _Cat’s out of the bag. No dancing around it now._ “I didn’t use to. Not for a long time. In the Circle, love was a game. Make it serious and it would only be used against you. Karl was the one who taught me what love could be. And if you would let me, I would like to be the one to show you. I love you, Fenris. I’ve loved you for quite some time now. I...don’t expect you to feel the same, but...will you let me love you?”

Fenris reached out to touch the mage’s stubbled cheek. “Yes. I want that.” He paused, searching for words. “Slaves are told that love is the leash binding them to their master. A good slave loves his master more than his brethren, more than his own children. Until now, that is the only love I have been allowed. I would like to learn a different way. I would like you to teach me.”

“Maker, Fen.” Anders pulled his lover forwards so their foreheads met. “It would be my honor.”

The two of them dressed reluctantly, but there would likely be a line at the clinic if the mage delayed much longer. Anders made to leave, but Fenris shoved a wedge of cheese and a bunch of grapes into his hand before he got to the door. “A moment. Have you...given any consideration to my proposition?”

Anders popped a grape into his mouth with a nod of thanks. “Your proposition?”

“Yes, err, about reversing roles one night.”

“Ah.” Anders chewed slowly and shuffled his feet. “If you’re absolutely certain, I’m willing. I will return tomorrow night. If you still wish me to have you, I’ll be ready.” He took the elf’s hand. “I’ll show you how good it can be.”

Fenris smirked. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.”


	19. Chapter 19

As evening approached, Anders practically itched with anticipation and anxiety. He had wanted this, void take him, since he first set eyes on the lithe warrior. Back then, he had no idea what it would mean for Fenris, or what it would mean for him to earn that kind of trust. Then their animosity killed any burgeoning feelings for years. Until an ancient Tevinter curse threw them together in the most heavy-handed way possible. Now the moment was nearly here. He prayed that he would avoid triggering any bad memories, that this would help Fenris heal rather than tear him down further.

He found the elf in his bedroom, freshly washed and wearing only a towel. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the rug in front of the fireplace. Fenris picked up the bottle and offered it to him, but he declined, smiling. “You haven’t been drinking all day, I hope?”

“Not at all. Just a glass or two to help me relax.”

“A glass?” Anders made an exaggerated survey of the room as he dispensed of his clothing. “I see no cups here.”

“You know what I mean,” Fenris growled and rolled his eyes.

“But it’s such fun to tease.” Down to his smalls, Anders tugged the elf towards him by the towel at his waist. “Don’t you think?”

“I prefer to get to the point.” Fenris punctuated his remark by palming the mage’s crotch and pushing the small down to his ankles.

“Nuh-uh.” The human tilted his head down to capture the elf’s lips in a brief kiss. “I’m in charge tonight, remember?”

The warrior rolled his eyes again. “Then lead on, mage.”

Anders guided him to sit on the bed and knelt between his knees. The mage opened his towel, revealing the now-familiar expanse of perfect bronze skin accented with silver swirls. “You really are lovely,” the mage murmured as he kissed the inside of one muscular thigh. Fenris carded his fingers through the human’s hair, pulling it from its tie and letting it cascade over pale shoulders. Anders kissed his way up the elf’s legs, pausing where they met his groin to suck pink welts into the sensitive skin there. Fenris’ dick began to take interest, gradually swelling and filling with blood. His breath quickened as the mage licked and sucked at the lyrium lines leading towards his shaft. “You taste absolutely divine.”

“As much as I respect your fine palate, tonight isn’t supposed to be about fellatio.”

“Who said anything about fellatio? So impatient…” Anders pushed the elf down to lie on his back and shifted his legs so they were on the bed, heels on the mattress and knees up. The mage settled himself between his lover’s thighs, noting the way the muscles tensed when he pushed them apart. “Relax, love. You’ll like this.” Carefully, Anders squeezed the elf’s sack, kneading it ever so gently. His fingers traveled to the perineum, pushing slightly on satiny skin. Next he filled his hands with the globes of Fenris’ ass and pulled them apart. The elf grunted and tensed again. “Fenris?”

“Sorry,” the elf gasped. “I’m fine. Continue.”

Lifting the warrior’s balls out of the way, Anders licked his way down the perineum until he reached his lover’s clenching hole. Fenris cried out in surprise as a hot, wet tongue probed his entrance. The was lyrium even here, circling the elf’s rim indecently. Anders licked and sucked at it, drawing shaky moans from the elf. For a mage to penetrate through that ring of lyrium in the throes of passion, fluids mixing, what kind of high would that cause?

Anders opened the vial of oil he had brought and coated both hands. His left hand went to Fenris’ heavy cock, coaxing it to full hardness. His right index finger pressed slowly into the elf’s tight hole, millimeters at a time. “Still with me, Fen?”

“Y-Yes.” The elf clutched his pillow in one hand; the other gripped the sheets. “Keep going.”

Once his finger was seated to the last knuckle, Anders withdrew it part way and pushed back in slowly, a small preview of what was to come. He hooked his finger, seeking that internal structure which brought such pleasure. It felt different somehow, the texture of the elf’s internal walls. Was there lyrium here, too? Surely not.

“A-Anders!” Fenris’ legs trembled and his voice came out nearly as a sob.

“Are you alright, love?”

“Yes...’sgood.”

Anders grinned and kissed the tip of the elf’s penis. “There’s more where that came from.” He strummed his lover’s sweet spot like a lute, drawing beautiful cries from his usually quiet lover’s lips. Carefully, he inserted a second finger and began to press forward. Fenris sucked in a deep, shuddering breath but nodded for the human to continue. Fully seated, Anders scissored his fingers to coax the elf open. Or tried to. There was no give, no stretch. He rubbed his fingertips along the rough, thickened tissue and his heart sank as he realized why the texture had seemed odd. Fenris’ moans were interspersed with whimpers now. Anders’ vision went black as fade energy surged to the surface of his skin. Wrestling with himself, he tamped down the overwhelming rage long enough to withdraw his fingers. He ran to the bathroom with only a garbled “I need a minute” to placate the bewildered elf.

The mage held his head in his hands and tried to get himself under control. There was a howling urge inside him to go to Tevinter _right fucking now_ and murder a magister. _That sadistic bastard! That sick excuse for a mage, for a human being!_ Fenris bore the scars of his rapes, alright. There was so much scar tissue that barely any part of his rectum was normal. The violence that must have been involved turned his stomach. Fenris could have died! If he didn’t have enhanced physical powers, he probably would have. Anders grabbed the chamber pot just in time to catch his vomit. Fenris’ voice called to him through the door.

“Anders? What happened?”

Anders was too busy retching to answer.

“Mage. I’m coming in.”

Soon there was a hand holding back his hair, an arm around his waist, a soothing deep voice murmuring in his ear.

Shaking, Anders allowed Fenris to guide him back to the bed.

Fenris smoothed his mage’s hair back from his face and raised his eyebrow in a silent question.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I was just overwhelmed. I shouldn’t have run like that.”

“It’s alright. Whatever it is, it’s alright. Tell me what happened.”

Fenris listened with dawning horror as Anders explained the long-term effects of Danarius’ tender ministrations. His eyes took on a glassy sheen. “So I am truly broken.”

Anders held him tightly. “No, Fen. You’re not. You’re perfect. Nothing that bastard did to you could break you.”

“I wish that were true.”

“Believe me, love, it is.”

The warrior wiped his unshed tears and turned stiffly to face his mage. “You are a healer. Can you fix it?”

“I...would have to think on it. With scars, the healing is already done, so it’s not like treating a fresh wound. I’ll have to look into potions that break down scar tissue, or spells for reshaping, maybe.”

Fenris cringed at the mention of spells, but did not object.

Anders cupped Fenris’ face in his hand. “I promise you, I will find a way to fix this.”


	20. Chapter 20

In the end, the solution was not something either of them wanted to be involved in. The scars would have to be broken down manually, then the fresh wounds healed. It would take a powerful spirit healer to bring the tissue into normal alignment rather than merely adding to the scars. Fortunately, Anders was a powerful spirit healer.

The mage prepared a potion to keep Fenris deeply asleep during the procedure. It was a testament to how far they had come that he took it without question. What followed was the worst hour of Anders’ life since being released from solitary. Although it felt like he was desecrating his lovers’ body, he worked on him with fingers and tools and magic until freshly-made tissue replaced the inflexible bands and keloids.

He was exhausted by the time Fenris awoke, blinking groggily and reaching for his hand. “Did it work?”

“I believe so, love. Any pain?”

Fenris shook his head. “No. It’s only that...I can’t see anything.”

“What?!” Anders began a diagnostic spell to scan the elf’s head. The warrior grabbed his wrist with perfect accuracy.

“Just kidding.” He deserved it when Anders slapped him.

The next night was Wicked Grace. Anders went directly from his clinic to the Hanged Man, arriving early so he could share a drink and a chat with Varric. He was in the middle of an anecdote about the time he sent Velanna on a blind date with a human when Fenris barged in. The warrior pulled the mage out of his chair with a violent tug to the front of his coat. There in front of Varric, Isabela, Nora, and all the rabble of lowtown, he pulled Anders into a passionate kiss. Isabela’s wolf whistles drowned out the dwarf’s frantic scribbling as they took in the scene.

“Convey our apologies to Hawke and the rest.” Fenris never took his eyes off Anders once as he addressed his friends. “We will not be playing Wicked Grace tonight.” The human squeaked as his lover used his superior strength to haul him out of the tavern.

“I want whatever Broody’s been drinking,” the pirate drawled.

“I might have to rename him. Any suggestions?”

“Nothing fit for polite conversation.”

The pace the elf set left no time for questions, and Anders was breathless by the time they reached the mansion. Any hope of catching his breath was dashed by Fenris shoving him up against the wall and showing him just how much he had learned about making out.

“You did it,” the warrior effused as he pulled his lover’s coat down his shoulders.

“Did it? What? The healing?”

Fenris hummed his assent without slowing in his rapid divestment of Anders’ clothes.

“Have you been experimenting without me?” The mage had to pause a moment to appreciate the mental image.

“No, not exactly.” The elf flushed in embarrassment. “Just...bodily functions, you know.”

“You took a shit. You took a comfortable shit and so you’ve decided to ravish me.”

“Um. Yes. If you’ve no objection?”

“Not a one.”

“In that case…” Fenris pulled the human’s smalls down, sinking to the ground with them. Gripping his lover’s thighs, he rubbed his cheeks on the light covering of hair. The action was so cat-like that Anders half expected him to start purring. The mage tugged lightly on Fenris’ hair. “Hey now, we can do something else. You don’t need to be on your knees.”

“On the contrary. I am going to take you into my mouth, my throat. I will make you shake, and moan, and spill your seed deep inside me. And then I am going to bend you over Danarius’ expensive desk and fuck you until you can’t think straight.”

“Maker, Fen, I already can’t think straight! Ok, love. Do your worst.”

Fenris’ satisfied smirk demolished the few of the human’s brain cells that were not yet on board with the plan. He struggled to stay standing as his lover’s talented mouth worked his turgid flesh. The sight of Fenris taking his whole length, lips stretched around his girth, expression dazed, undid Anders as it always had. He moaned his pleasure as, with a final unconscious jerk of his hips, he came hard into his lover.

He was allowed no time to recover. Fenris, still fully clothed, pulled his naked mage over to the desk and pushed him onto it so that his chest and cheek lay upon the varnished oak. He prepared his partner quickly with generous amounts of oil. Two digits, then three, with Anders wriggling enticingly and pushing back on his fingers. The elf paused only to unlace his trousers before sheathing himself in the mage’s eager body. Placing one hand on Anders’ hip and the other on his shoulder for leverage, he thrust mercilessly, drawing a strained shout from his partner. He stilled. “Too much?”

“No. Keep going. Harder.” Anders produced the most incredible noises as the warrior fucked him. His moans, whimpers, and sobbed profanities were all music to Fenris’ ears. The elf’s cock hardened further as he approached his release, until he reached his peak and pulsed his seed deep within the mage. It was all he could do to suppress his markings. Even without the injection of lyrium, Anders was wrecked. When Fenris released him, he slid bonelessly down to the floor. The elf sat next to him, pulling the human into his arms. He stroked the blonde hair out of Anders’ face and looked at him questioningly.

Anders smiled. “That was wonderful, love.”

“It was good?”

“Good is an understatement, you silly elf.”

“I am...pleased to hear that. I was wondering if tomorrow morning we could perhaps try again? With you penetrating me? Not - not like this, but-” The mage stopped him with a finger on his lips.

“Slow and gentle. Tomorrow will be all about your pleasure.” They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. “Tonight though, I am bushed. Carry me upstairs, oh mighty warrior?”

With a chuckle, Fenris reached for the mage’s arm and torso. Some awkward maneuvering later, he had a squawking Anders slung over his shoulder.

“Not like that, you Tevinter barbarian!” A swift slap to his rear was the only response he got as the elf brought him upstairs.


	21. Chapter 21

Three fingers inside him, twisting. So full, almost too much. But it was pressure, not pain. His mage had such large hands...Not to mention his cock, longer and thicker than Danarius’. Not that his cock was the only thing the magister would fuck his slave with -

“Still with me, love?”

“Still with you.” Anders. Focus on Anders. He’ll stop if you need him to. He has before. For now, it felt good. One pale hand wrapped around his oiled-up dick, the other pressing into him, fingers just grazing his prostate. The mage pressed up rhythmically into that sensitive gland. Fenris felt more than heard a helpless moan escape his lips.

“I am going to make you feel so good, Fen.” The mage’s musical voice lowered into a husky whisper. “Going to make you come so hard that all you know is me inside you and how wonderful you feel.”

The fingers around his cock and the ones inside him worked in tandem. The pressure on his prostate waned as the mage pulled upwards to encompass the head of his penis, then the assault renewed again as Anders squeezed his organ and stroked down firmly. It felt like he was fucking himself, a fragmented thought suggested. His chuckle somehow turned into another protracted moan as it escaped his throat. His anxiety faded as his attention focused fully on his cock, his ass, and Anders’ voice.

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Sexy as your voice is, that’s not a yes or a no,” the mage teased.

“Close...almost...oh- ah-” And suddenly he was empty, the warm grip on his cock gone. Anders beamed up at him from his position between the elf’s legs. Fenris groaned. “You utter bastard.”

“Love you too, Fen. Don’t worry; I’ll make it up to you.” Anders crawled over him to capture his lips in a kiss. He ran his hands down the warrior’s tattooed thighs and pulled them up around his waist. Fenris pulled the mage down to kiss him again, clumsy with anticipation. “Hook your ankles behind my back, love.” Fenris flushed with embarrassment. He should have known what to do, having put Anders in that position more than once. The mage didn’t seem cross, however. On the contrary, the look on his face was akin to wonder as he positioned himself.

Fenris struggled to keep his eyes open and focused on his lover as the blunt head pressed into him. It was already too much, too intrusive. He whined and hid his face in Anders’ neck. The mage stilled, frozen in place, only the head of his cock breaching the elf’s body. His voice was tense with restrained passion when he spoke. “I won’t move until you tell me to. I won’t do anything to hurt you.” He meant it, he did, but the lyrium encircling his member was nearly irresistible. He forced himself not to thrust, not to fuck that impossibly tight hole until the lyrium bled into him and brought him to paradise. To his relief, Fenris gradually relaxed and let his head fall back on the pillow, tears in his eyes but the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “I’m ready.”

“I’m ready.” The hard organ inside him slid slowly deeper, filling him far more than the fingers had. The mage continued until he was buried to the hilt, balls resting on the elf’s firm cheeks. Anders leaned his forehead down to Fenris’, panting lightly. The warrior tightened his legs around his lover’s waist as he adjusted to the sensation. It was strange to feel so full without the searing pain or the fear. Well, maybe there was still some fear, but it was beginning to dissipate. His erection, which had wilted slightly in the interim, began to throb again as the mage ran his tongue along the curve of the elf’s ear and moaned into it. “Fenris...please, please…”

Resisting the urge to tease ( _Please **what** , mage?_), Fenris rolled his hips experimentally. Anders groaned and drew back slightly in order to pump back into the elf. Fenris egged him on, rolling his hips again and moaning seductively. Their mouths crashed together in a tangle of tongues and teeth as Anders picked up the pace. Drawing back almost all the way, he plunged deep again, rocking the lithe body beneath him. Fenris’ lids fluttered closed as he succumbed to the sensations. The larger body moving over him. His engorged cock trapped between them. The lips sucking and licking a path down his neck. The hard rod pistoning into him was queasily familiar. The voice murmuring endearments was familiar for altogether more pleasant reasons. Then Anders took hold of his hips and shifted the angle, and suddenly he was seeing stars. He hardly recognized the sounds that escaped him. He tried to stifle his voice by bringing his fist to his own mouth. But Danarius had always wanted to hear him. But this was Anders, not Danarius, and these were entirely different cries. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the cresting wave growing inside him. He didn’t know whether he was laughing or sobbing. Lost as he was, he did not notice the blue cracks forming in his lover’s skin.

The hands on his hips tightened almost painfully, but that didn’t matter either. Three more powerful thrusts, then the cock inside him pulsed and pulsed and pulsed as the mage shouted his release. A hand gripped his member and stroked him roughly. It was only seconds before his own orgasm hit, drawing a keening wail from him.

Fenris lay still, attempting to collect himself as Anders’ dick began to soften inside him. Once he was satisfied that he could breathe again, he opened his eyes. His mind was playing tricks on him; for a moment he thought he saw the mage suffused with blue light until his vision focused. Anders’ pupils were blown wide as he caressed his lovers’ face with a trembling hand. The human’s cock slipped out of his loosened hole, followed by the viscous wetness of his semen.

“Fen? Are you ok?”

“I believe so.”

“I...Things got a little out of hand. I didn’t mean to get carried away, it was Just- just that with the lyrium, and being with you that way at last. Andraste’s knickerweasels, it was overwhelming.”

“It was overwhelming, yes.” Fenris’ brows drew together. “But I would not say things got out of hand. You didn’t hurt me; quite the contrary. If that’s what you call getting carried away, I suppose I’m...flattered?”

Anders giggled in relief and kissed his elf again. “Let’s get cleaned up; I’ll get the towel.”

Fenris’ hand on his arm stopped him. “What did you mean about the lyrium?”

The mage flinched. “You won’t like it.”

“Then it strikes me as especially necessary that you tell me.”

“Being exposed to that much lyrium, through both skin and mucous membranes - it calls to my magic. And to Justice.”

“Don’t bring your demon into this.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice, do I? Also, not a demon.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “So my brands bring your entirely benevolent fade spirit closer to the surface? Wouldn’t that have happened before?”

“It has, when you flared your markings inside me. But being inside you, being surrounded by the lyrium - did you know there’s a ring of the stuff around your anus?”

“I assure you, mage, that I am acutely aware of every speck of lyrium that has been carved into my skin.”

“Ah. Right. Well, that particular marking seems to...enhance the experience. Likely for any mage, but particularly for this possessed mage.”

Fenris was silent for several moments. When he spoke, his voice was flat. “It should not surprise me that Danarius intended these brands not only to make me a better warrior, but also to make me a better fuck toy.”

“I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“Wouldn’t like it?! I wouldn’t like having fish for dinner! This is my very being that he has befouled!”

Anders cringed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of this. Believe me, you’re a lot of things, but you aren’t befouled.”

“Am I not? This magic has corrupted every aspect of my life! Now even when I lay with you, it will be in the shadow of Danarius. To have these cursed markings exploited by another mage, to know that when you’re with me at any moment it could be your demon fucking me instead - it is intolerable!”

“It’s not like that, and you know it! I’m not the one who hurt you; neither is Justice. I’m pretty sure that Justice actually approves of you, even!”

Fenris cut him off with a snarl. “How comforting that your demon likes me. Perhaps it will do me the courtesy of warning me before you go full abomination.” A hard slap to the face stopped his tirade.

“I am leaving, Fenris. I think I’ll take Hawke up on his offer to go wyvern hunting in Orlais after all. Don’t bother looking for me when I return.”

Anders grabbed his clothes and staff and headed for the door. As he dressed and left, the only sound from upstairs was breaking glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did not see this fight coming when I started the chapter. Whoops.


	22. Chapter 22

Hawke was thrilled that Anders decided to join him, Merrill and Talis at the Montfort estate. His girlfriend, his best friend, and a suspiciously cheerful elf - what could be better? He hadn’t counted on just how unsociable Anders would be. Even as they picnicked amongst rolling hills dotted by roaming cattle, the healer just picked at his food and avoided conversation.

Merrill was having none of it. “Come on, Mr. Grumpy-Robes. We’re in a beautiful place with good friends, interesting food, and new experiences. The look you’re giving that poor cow is going to curdle her milk!”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not feeling well.”

“Are you missing Fenris?”

“Ooh, who’s Fenris?” Talis interjected.

Anders grimaced. “Fenris is a closed-minded bigot who probably isn’t even capable of love.”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Talis muttered to herself.

Hawke’s jaw dropped. “Whoa there, Anders! What in the void happened?”

“Oh, nothing. He just threw my affection back in my face. Called me an abomination.”

“But he’s been calling you an abomination for years! Why are you upset about it now?”

“He hasn’t said it for quite some time now. Silly me, I thought he was starting to understand. But no, turns out blind hatred is the only emotion he understands.”

Merrill patted Anders’ hand consolingly. “I’m so sorry that happened, Anders. It sounds like he was being unfair to you. Don’t you think he might regret it, though? It’s obvious how much he cares for you.”

“It is?” Hawke wondered.

“It is. He’s always watching Anders with those big puppy eyes. And he always makes sure Anders eats enough.” She looked pointedly and the bread roll that Anders was angrily tearing to pieces.

Anders threw the remaining part of his roll out into the field. “Why do you bother defending him, Merrill? It’s not like he’d ever give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Well no, I suppose not. But then he’s in a lot of pain, isn’t he? He’s rather like a mabari pup with a broken leg, snarling and nipping at the ones who try to help him because he thinks they might hurt him more.”

“I did say once that he’s more a wild dog than a man.” _That’s unfair. He is so much more than that._ Anders shrugged aside the pang of guilt. “But it doesn’t excuse him.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hawke agreed. “Look, just try to enjoy the fancy Orlesian food and the hilarious Orlesian accents. Get Fenris out of your head for a weekend. Live a little. Wait until we get back to figure out whether he’s the prince charming you thought he was last week or the asshole you think he is now. The distance will do you good.”

“I guess so.”

“I know so.”


	23. Chapter 23

Why did he do it? Why did he say that? Fenris contemplated his empty bottle morosely. Rather than dealing with his own pain, he took it out on Anders. He had said what he knew would hurt Anders most, and the mage would never forgive him. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Perhaps it was better for Anders to hate him. He was a mess.

Fenris signalled Nora for another bottle. Isabella plopped down on the bench next to him, her fresh mug of rum weaving unsteadily as she brought it to her mouth. “Don’t brood so much, Broody. Anders will come back from that big pretentious party so fed up with Orlesian frippery that he’ll fall right back into your glowy, muscley arms. If not, you could always try that cold insolence I recommended.”

“I doubt it.”

“Always the pessimist.”

“Realist.”

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

“If you can still count, you haven’t had enough rum.”

“Good point. Ok, drink for every time that poet messes up a rhyme.”

What Fenris liked best about Isabella was that she was never judgmental. You could tear out the best part of your life and she’d be there to distract you as if you hadn’t just made a colossal mistake.

His thoughts towards Isabella were less favorable later that night as he vomited into some sort of brass urn he found in a spare room of the mansion. He couldn’t even remember how he got home. At least heartbreak didn’t involve uncontrollable nausea. Fenris lay on the ground, clutching his urn for the next round of retching. Freedom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.


	24. Chapter 24

The clinic in Darktown was relatively quiet this afternoon. It gave Anders too much time to think. The backlog of patients that accumulated while Anders was in Orlais had been dealt with over the past couple of weeks. He had been neglecting his patients even before the trip. Surely it was better to be sleeping in the clinic again, available for emergencies at any time of night. He did his best to ignore the aching loneliness that threatened to overwhelm him in quiet moments like this. Wasn’t his union with Justice supposed to prevent this kind of despair? But Justice ached, too. He knew it somehow, that both of them were grieving, even with no way to communicate or even differentiate between them. Fenris had been by once, the first night Anders returned to Kirkwall. Anders had sent him away before he could get a word out. He tried not to regret it.

Hawke and Varric came by frequently these days, dropping off food or blankets or herbs. They hid their concern poorly behind jokes and city gossip. Then Hawke’s mother was murdered. Anders had not been there, had only found out after the fact. By all accounts it had been horrifying. A blood mage had been sewing pieces of women together to recreate his lost love. Hawke had to see Leandra’s face on a patchwork corpse, helpless to save her despite all his might. Fenris had seen it, too. It probably cemented everything he believed about magic. Anders was only glad he had been spared whatever diatribe the warrior had spouted after that tragedy.

Hawke, Maker bless him, refused to allow his grief to get in the way of his duties and friendships. He carried on as before. Only those closest to him could see the rage and sorrow underneath the flippant exterior. Anders decided it was time to pull his own weight as a friend and check in on Hawke. He closed his clinic early for the first time since his return and walked to Hightown.

The Amell estate was quiet when he arrived, but Bodahn answered his knock, Sandal close behind.

“Ah, Messere Anders! Messere Hawke is in the study. Wait here, if you please, while I announce you.”

Anders stood in the foyer, watching the unnerving younger dwarf smile broadly at a bust of one of the Amell ancestors. For five minutes. Without blinking.

Not a moment too soon for Anders’ liking, Bodahn returned to usher him into the study. Hawke was there with a book and a snifter of brandy. Dog sat by the fire, stubby tail waving with excitement. With a happy smile but bags under his eyes, Hawke gave Anders a hearty pat on the shoulder.

“What brings my favorite healer to this end of town?”

“I just had a hankering to lose at Diamondback, so I thought I’d come visit you and Dog.”

“Ha! Well, it just so happens I may have a deck lying around somewhere. Merrill’s working on her mirror, so it’s been pretty quiet around here today.”

They played and chatted, and eventually Anders began to feel a little bit more like a whole person and a little bit less like a miserable, disjointed shadow of his former self. Until, of course, Hawke brought up Fenris.

“He misses you, Anders. I know he said some horrible things to you, and you don’t have to forgive him. But it’s tearing him up. I didn’t used to think he loved you like you loved him, but I’ve seen what losing you has done to him. It isn’t pretty.”

“Don’t, Hawke. It’s over. You know how often he’s come to see me since our argument? Once. One whole time.”

“And you sent him away in no uncertain terms.”

“So what? Stubborn bastard that he is, that wouldn’t stop him if he actually cared.”

“So you shouting him out of Darktown was what...a test?”

“No.” He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Anders...You know all those blankets and food and things I’ve been bringing? Most of them were from Fenris. He wants to be sure you’re ok. He pesters me day and night about whether you’ve been eating enough, whether you’re getting any rest, whether the templars have been patrolling Darktown.”

Anders felt his eyes water and willed himself not to cry. “He called me an abomination. He never stopped calling Justice a demon during the whole time we were together. I was a fool to think I could change his mind, or that he could love me when he loathes Justice.”

Hawke’s expression was full of sympathy. “Alright, Anders. I’m sorry. It’s a shitty situation for both of you. It’s just hard to watch two of my friends suffering and not say anything. I’ll leave it alone.”

“That would be best, Hawke. I understand your concern, and I’m grateful, but this is between Fenris and me.”

The conversation shifted to more pleasant topics, and eventually the evening concluded with an emotional toast to Leandra, Malcolm, and Carver. Bethany got her own toast (“We can’t snub her just because she’s still alive!”) They parted ways at last, Anders reassuring Hawke that he could navigate the streets of Kirkwall alone at night.

Anders set forth into the darkened boulevards of Hightown. His way home was to the west, but his feet took him eastwards. To Fenris’ mansion. This was it. They’d have it out, sever the last remaining ties between them if necessary. He opened the heavy door and stomped through the carpet of broken glass and furniture.


	25. Chapter 25

There were no candles lit, no fires in the hearths. If Fenris were home, surely he would have heard the mage’s heavy boots crunching the debris strewn around the ground floor. Nevertheless, Anders lit a magelight and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom. There was blood on the landing. The door to Fenris’ room was ajar. Staff raised, pulse racing, Anders nudged it further open. Something was blocking it. With an effort, he pushed it enough to see into the room. Bodies. There were four bodies on the floor; a warrior in plate, a thin woman in leather armor, and two robed men. Bloodspray adorned the walls. Here and there a piece of flesh or an organ lay in a puddle of gore. And there against the bed was Fenris, naked, head pressed against his knees, in a pool of his own blood.

Anders rushed to the warrior’s side. He was still conscious, but he didn’t seem to register Anders as he checked the elf’s pulse and scanned him for wounds. The scent of wine on his breath was unmistakable despite the surrounding odors of viscera and burnt flesh. One of the mages must have hit him with a fireball. Severe burns covered his left hip and leg. There was a dagger embedded in his right shoulder, and a gash over his chest. The remainder of his wounds were minor, just bruises and abrasions. Anders set to work.

By the time the mage finished, Fenris still had not acknowledged his presence. He was cooperative, moving as directed to facilitate the healing, but stared into space and said nothing. Anders turned the elf’s face toward him. His emerald eyes were glassy and unfocused. It was eerily like the time he collapsed near the beginning of their relationship, and a cold spike of fear shot through the mage. There were no injuries consistent with sexual assault, though.

“Fenris?”

The warrior blinked, his eyes brimming with tears. “You aren’t real. You’re one of Danarius’ tricks.”

“What? No, Fenris, I’m really here. You’re safe, I promise you.”

Tears fell in earnest now as the warrior clenched his trembling fists. “It is too cruel! Leave me; I will not play your sick game.”

Anders reached out but thought better of touching the elf in this state. “Fen, you’re in shock. Please tell me what happened.”

“Begone, apparition!”

Frustration mixed with concern as Anders searched for a way to prove his identity. “Danarius can’t heal, can he? How do you think I took care of your injuries?”

Fenris struggled to sit upright. “Potions...power of suggestion...illusions.”

“Oh, for the love of Andraste! We’ll get nowhere with you this sloshed.” He reached out for Fenris’ head, which the warrior surprisingly allowed. With a word and a burst of power, he cleared the toxins coursing through the warrior’s bloodstream. Fenris’ brands flared and he hissed in pain. When he looked at the mage again, his gaze was both clear and furious. Then the fury drained from him. He glanced around the room, taking in the mutilated corpses. “Do you still think I don’t exist?”

Fenris actually blushed, from his cheeks to his ear tips. “I...no. Danarius would not be able to replicate the feel of your magic. I apologize for accusing you.”

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and dispose of these bodies. Bath first.” Anders pulled the elf to his feet and guided him out of the room. “What happened?

“They came upon me while I slept. Bounty hunters for Danarius. I was...unprepared.”

“You killed them anyway.”

“Yes.” Fenris turned on the water to his tub and watched the level rise. “Thank you for coming to my aid. It is a comfort to know that despite our animosity you would still prefer me alive.”

Anders sighed. “It’s what I do.” He assisted Fenris into the tub and handed him the soap.

“Anders...Why did you come here tonight? You could not have known I was in danger.” The look on his face was painfully hopeful.

“I was visiting Hawke, and I guess I just decided it was time we resolve this...thing...between us.”

“I need to apologize for what I said.” Fenris’ words were rushed, as if worried Anders would leave before he finished. “You are not an abomination, and I know you do not wish to take advantage of the modifications Danarius has made to me. I...have not been the same since you left. There is nothing in my life I regret more than driving you away.”

Anders clasped his hands in front of him as he considered his reply. “I accept your apology. But we can’t go back to how things were before. I _am_ possessed. As long as you see Justice as the enemy, we cannot be together. He is a part of me, perhaps the most important part.”

Fenris stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel. He reached forward for Anders’ hand, but was met with nothing. “I admit that your spirit unsettles me. I have seen enough true abominations to be wary of anything that comes out of the fade. Still, I am willing to learn. He has never harmed me, it’s true. If it will help, I would apologize to him, too. I will prove that I can accept him. Bring him forth, and I will show you.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Fenris. I can’t just call him on command. I appreciate the effort, but it’s come too late.” Anders could feel his own eyes welling up. Here was his beautiful elf, offering everything he’d always wanted, and yet he could not trust the truth of his words. Fenris would always hate magic. Anders turned from him. “I’ll contact Varric to get rid of the corpses in your room. Be well, Fenris.”

The warrior’s grip on his upper arm halted him. “Please, Anders! Please listen to me! I don’t have much to offer, I know, but I would do anything for you. I’ll help you with your work. You can take me again, any time you like. I will never deny you. You can use magic on me. Please! Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

Anders swallowed heavily. “That’s not how love is supposed to work, Fenris. You must still be in shock, or you would not be offering this.”

Tears streamed freely down the warrior’s face. “I do love you, though. I do. I should have told you before.”

“Oh, Fen…” Anders did not know what to do. The elf was so sincere, so pitiful, but what he was offering was not a partnership. It was a return to slavery. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. Lost for words, the mage pulled Fenris into an embrace.

“Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me again.” The lyrium lines on his nearly naked body flared in response to his agitation. Anders stiffened and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, blue light shone from his sockets.

“ **Fenris.** ” The elf gasped and leaned back to take in the ethereal display, but he did not pull away. “ **We have missed you. We have longed for you throughout the empty nights. We would not see you debase yourself with promises of servitude. We will not allow further injustices upon your person. You are too pure, too righteous to suffer so. Our hope is to stay by your side, to help you achieve your vengeance, to rest in your arms as you sing so sweetly. Will you allow this?** ”

Fenris nodded his assent. “I will.” Justice leaned down to touch his lips to the elf’s, flicking his tongue out to taste the lyrium just below his mouth. Fenris’ eyes fluttered shut as he, to his own surprise, relaxed into the kiss.

“ **Shine for me, love.** ” The warrior flared brightly, and Justice deepened the kiss. Their tongues danced together as the spirit pulled him close, running his hands over Fenris’ arms and back as if he wanted to touch everywhere at once. Justice drew the elf’s lower lip into his mouth, sucking and nipping gently at it. With a final kiss, almost chaste compared to what preceded it, the fade being withdrew and Ander’s eyes were a warm brown once again. Fenris looked up at him with a hope that threatened to rend his heart. “You...You just made out with Justice.”

“I suppose I did.”

“He kissed you!”

“Don’t worry; other than that he was a perfect gentleman.”

“You really mean it. You really can accept who I am.”

“Yes. I love you, Anders. I love all of you.”

“I love you too, Fen. I missed you.” His voice cracked. “So much.”

The smile of relief on the elf’s face was beautiful to behold.

“None of that nonsense about me using you or hurting you, ok? You don’t ever have to bottom again unless you truly want to.”

The elf had the grace to look bashful. “I understand. Come to bed with me? Just so I can hold you?

“I thought you’d never ask.” The mage tripped on something on his way out of the bathroom. “Maybe we should get rid of the corpses first.”


	26. Chapter 26

“So, you and Broody kissed and made up?”

“And then some.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Put away the pencil, Varric, and forget I said anything.”  
“Now that’s not fair, Blondie. You can’t just stop there!”

“I can and I will.”

“Ok, new topic. How is Justice adjusting to having a boyfriend?”

Eyes narrowed, Anders looked down his nose at the dwarf. “That’s not a new topic.”

“So sue me.”

The mage pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Ok, you get one thing. Justice is completely obsessed with Fenris. I’ve truly created a monster.”

The dwarf laughed heartily and slapped his thigh. “That’s brilliant! It gives me an idea. Lonesome spirit falls in love with a mortal, possesses a mage in order to pursue said mortal. Eventually the spirit is cast out, and the mortal has to choose between the spirit and the host. I’ll call it ‘Faded Love.’”

“Ugh. That title needs work. And besides, I doubt there’s even a way to separate a spirit from its host. How are you going to explain that?”

“Eh, I’ll figure it out. Got some contacts who know a bit about old magic. Possessions and spirit journeys and such. And if that doesn’t pan out, there’s always the power of imagination. And poetic license.”

“Wait, seriously? You have contacts who are experts on possession? You couldn’t have mentioned this before?”

“I wouldn’t say experts, exactly. They’re just people who know things.”

“Well then, I won’t hold my breath. When you write this book, whatever you do, don’t call the main characters Andre and Fenrir.”

“Sander and Ferris it is.”


	27. Chapter 27

“ _Fucking_ Qunari destroying the _fucking_ city all because of _fucking_ Isabella!”

“Hey, you learned a curse word in common. Good for you!”

“How can you be so blasé? Hundreds are dead.”

Anders shrugged. “We did all we could. Saved hundreds more. I’m not going to wallow in misery over something I can’t change. There’s plenty else that needs changing that I can actually do something about.”

“I am not wallowing.”

“Never said you were, love.” The mage pulled Fenris into his embrace. “You were incredible out there. The way you fight, it looks like you’re dancing.”

The warrior hid a pleased smile against his partner’s shoulder. “You would revise that opinion if you ever saw me dance. The way I dance, it looks like I’m fighting.”

“Mm, I would pay good money to see that. And here I thought you were a choreographer! Care to demonstrate? Or…” Anders began to unbuckle the elf’s chestplate. “You could show me some of your other moves. Get some of that aggression out in a more constructive fashion.”

“I could do that.”

They made quick work of their clothes, but Anders stopped Fenris when he began to remove his gauntlets. “I want you to have your wicked way with me, and nothing says ‘wicked’ quite like those claws.”

The warrior leaned in close, breath ghosting over the mage’s lips. “Just how wicked would you like me to be?”

Anders shivered at the deep, silken tone. It took him a moment to find his own voice. “Wicked enough to leave marks, not wicked enough to draw blood.”

Fenris drew the tip of one claw along his mage’s cheek, tracing a line down to his neck and lingering there. Slowly, deliberately, he wrapped his hand around the human’s throat. Anders’ eyes dilated and his breath quickened. As his lover pressed him against the wall, he let his eyes fall closed. His hands rose to the elf’s chest and rested there, fingertips rubbing light circles over the warrior’s nipples. Full lips pressed into his as a muscular thigh easily forced his legs open, nudging his balls and awakening erection. Their kiss heated up, tongues clashing. The hand on Anders’ throat tightened marginally, more threat than actual restraint. The mage began to rock against Fenris’ thigh, bringing his member to full mast. HIs fingers trailed from the elf’s chest to the firm muscles of his abdomen, then lower yet. He had barely grazed Fenris’ heavy cock when the elf growled and spun him around. One gauntlet pinned his wrists above him, while the other squeezed his ass hard, bruising and pricking his cheeks. “No touching, mage.”

“Try and stop me.” Anders arched back into his lover’s grip. He brought his right foot up to stroke Fenris’ calf, peeking over his shoulder to smirk at the other man. His smirk morphed into a startled “Oh!” when a swift hand smacked his ass hard. Fenris raked the reddened skin with his gauntlets, drawing upwards along the expanse of the mage’s scarred back. In apology, he soothed the new red welts with his tongue and lips. Anders moaned wantonly. He wiggled his hips, seeking the hot, hard organ he wanted so badly. A nip of teeth on his earlobe and another growl were his only warnings before he found himself face down on the bed, ass in the air. The warrior wrestled Anders’ arms behind him to be held in a vice-like grip. With his free hand, Fenris rained down harsh blows upon the human’s exposed rear. The sting was exquisite, the pain just on the right side of pleasurable. “So disobedient,” the elf crooned between sharp slaps.

Anders was not feeling particularly coherent. “Fuck!” was the only word he could form between spankings. A cool trickle of oil oozed its way down his crack, coating his anus and his sac. He hadn’t even noticed when Fenris brought it out. The elf’s cock slid between his cheeks, rubbing over his hole as Fenris rutted against him.

The elf’s gravelly voice demanded attention. “Your arms restrained, your plump ass on display...You are just as delicious now as you were that first time. This time, however, we have a dilemma.” Fenris drummed his clawed fingers on one heated cheek. “I cannot prepare you whilst wearing these gauntlets. Shall I remove them now, stretch you open with the care you deserve? Or would you prefer it hard and fast and punishing?”

“Nng...Can’t wait. Need you inside me.”

Fenris struck his rear again, harder than before. Tears leaked from Anders’ eyes as his body canted forward from the assault. “So be it.”

A blunt head pushed at his hole, forcing the sphincter open mercilessly. Fenris grunted above him, tightening his grip on the mage’s arms further as he bucked forward. The oil was enough to prevent tearing, but the shock of the sudden intrusion forced a pained sob out of the human. Fenris froze.

“Anders?” The elf’s voice sounded rough and shaky.

The mage pulled himself together enough to respond. “It’s good, Fen. You didn’t hurt me.” The latter was a bit of a lie, but his lover didn’t need to know that.

Fenris stroked the healer’s hip as gently as he could with metal-encased fingers, then pulled back slowly. His next thrusts were just as fierce, but Anders’ body adjusted quickly. The pain ebbed, pleasure growing in its wake. The warrior pulled his lover’s hair into a fist and hauled him upright. He released the mage’s arms in order to hold him around the waist and by the throat. His hips pumped against Anders’ abused rear, drawing a keening whine that vibrated against the hand that lightly constricted his neck. In contrast to the violence of his thrusts, Fenris peppered Anders’ jaw with soft kisses and licks. He found the angle that made his mage lose all coherence and milked the most obscene moans and curses from him. He kept a demanding pace, revelling in the sensation of Anders’ slick walls gripping him. Helplessly, the mage jerked in his hold and spattered their bedding with his come. Fenris gave him a moment to recover before starting to move again, chasing his own climax.“You feel so good,” he breathed into the shell of the mage’s ear. “You’re taking me so well, so tight, such a good boy…” His thoughts and words suddenly screeched to a halt when he realized what he had said. The words were familiar. They were Danarius’ words.

The nausea threatened to overtake his arousal. He released Anders’ throat but clung harder to his waist. He buried his face in his lover’s long hair. The mage reached up behind him to cup Fenris’ head. “What is it, love?”

“I need you to turn around.” The elf pulled out, and Anders twisted to face him. Fenris kissed him desperately, determined to ground himself in the now. He was with Anders. He loved Anders. Anders loved him. Fenris lay back and pulled the mage onto his lap, positioning them so Anders could ride him face to face. The human sank down on his cock, groaning in satisfaction and rolling his hips. It took time for the warrior to relax, time for enjoyment to return. But return in did, and Fenris emptied himself into his lover with a shout of relief.

They lay in each other’s arms for several minutes, just basking in the closeness. Anders was the first to break the silence. “Was everything ok? You seemed off for awhile there.”

Fenris picked at the bedsheet nervously. “I just don’t understand why you enjoy it like this. Like you...want me to hurt you.”

“Oh, love, I don’t want that. It’s just the passion, you know? That kind of intensity, it’s never been turned against me. Even with the templars. That was more…clinical than anything.”

Fenris froze for the second time that night. “What do you mean, ‘with the templars’?”

“Um...is it too late to forget I said that?”

Fenris looked into his eyes without a trace of humor. “Tell me.”

It was Anders’ turn to fidget. “They put me in solitary for a year. After my second-to-last escape attempt.”

“A _year_? Anders, that is inhuman!”

“Tell me about it.”

“They put you in solitary confinement for a year, more than enough time to drive anyone mad, simply because you ran away from the circle?”

“It was the last in a series of escalating punishments. They claimed it was a mercy.”

“A mercy compared to what, being flayed alive?”

“Compared to tranquility. Literally anything is a mercy compared to tranquility.”

“You...feel that strongly about the tranquil?”

Anders made an effort at a smile that didn’t quite work. “Have you listened to me at all these past four years?”

The elf’s shoulders drooped. “I- That comment was ill-conceived. I apologize.”

“Good, because I’d hate for tonight to end in a fight.” The mage nudged Fenris affectionately. “Now you’ve got me off-topic.” He cleared his throat. “So. Solitary. It’s boring, it’s dark, it’s lonely, and yes, it drives you mad. The only hint of human connection is the hand that shoves the food and water through the slot. Mr. Wiggums the cat snuck in sometimes, but those moments were few and far between. I would beg my guards to talk to me. I made up outrageous stories to get their attention. Once I even announced I was going to kill myself. They didn’t care.

Fenris took Anders’ hand and squeezed it, but did not interrupt.

“I grew increasingly desperate. It had only been a month or so, I think. They wouldn’t talk to me, but I would talk to them. Until finally one of them broke. He banged on my cell door and demanded to know what it would take to shut me up. I told him he should come in and shut me up himself. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“That templar...he used you? Sexually?”

“Mm-hm. That was me, the little mage slut.” This time Anders’ attempt to smile was even worse; it was more a sneer than anything. “Word got around. All the least ethical templars - and that’s a low bar - started signing up to ‘guard’ me. When I was finally released, some of them still expected me to service them. I turned them down and, thank the Maker, none of them forced the point. I then spent the next year, both in the Circle and out, fucking as many non-templars as would have me. I only stopped when...when I started getting to know Justice. But that is a story for another day.”

Fenris cupped Anders’ cheek and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “I regret ever calling you weak. You are stronger than I could have imagined.”

Tears he didn’t realize were brimming tumbled from the mage’s eyes. On impulse, he wrapped his long arms around the elf, pinned him to the bed, and did his level best to smother him with kisses.


	28. Chapter 28

They had almost drifted off when Anders suddenly remembered why the conversation had begun - Fenris’ sudden unease during their lovemaking.

“Fen? Did I do something that upset you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you stopped and had me turn around. You never told me what was wrong.”

Fenris carded his hand through Anders’ hair. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

The mage wracked his lust-addled memories for the sequence of events that night, then gave him a shrewd look. “You called me a ‘good boy’.”

Fenris visibly cringed. “Danarius...was never stingy with his compliments.” He drew out the word as if it were the most disgusting epithet he could think of. “They were always demeaning, condescending at best. “‘Pet.’ ‘Little one.’ ‘Good boy.’” His usually smooth voice had developed a tremor. “I don’t know why I called you that. I do not think of you that way, Anders.”

“It’s alright. I think I understand.” Anders wrapped an arm around the elf’s shoulders and rested his head there. “We were both caught up in the moment. Your brain just reached out for something familiar. Maker knows I’ve said stupider things during sex.” He chuckled and squeezed Fenris’ arm.

“You are kind to forgive me so easily.” Grateful as he was to hear the mage’s explanation, it was hard not to keep blaming himself for his slip-up.

“No, not kind. Just in love.”

In response, Fenris simply held his mage tighter.

When he spoke again, the mage’s voice was soft. “I hate what he did to you, Fen. You haven’t said much, but you’ve told me plenty in the way you act, the things that upset you. I’ve seen the damage first-hand. You don’t have to tell me about it, but I’m ready to listen if you ever want to.”

“I...appreciate that. It is not something I wish to speak of, but it seems unfair to maintain silence. You have revealed much of your own past tonight.”

“That’s not how it works. You don’t owe me anything, just because I ran off at the mouth like I always do.”

“You gave me a gift. To know you better is infinitely valuable to me. I wish...I want to reciprocate.” Fenris swallowed hard. Shame suffused him, though he knew by all rights the shame ought to be Danarius’. Anders leaned into him, radiating warmth, stroking his arm.

“I do not know how old I was when these markings were carved into me. Although my muscles already knew how to fight, I had not yet reached my full height. At the beginning, my only responsibilities were to train and heal. The powers that came with the lyrium took a great deal of perseverance to master. Each night Danarius would summon me to receive treatment for the brands. There was a cream he rubbed into my skin that ached and stung but ensured the lyrium would not be rejected by my system. You have seen the extent of the brands. You know how intimate his ministrations were. He could not sodomize me while my skin healed, so he trained me to use my mouth on him. Each night he expected me to thank him for his attentions, for his investment in me, and repay him on my knees.

By the time the healing process completed, I was competent at phasing and at controlling my enhanced strength and speed. I took my place as Danarius’ bodyguard and most favored slave. He kept me at his side for every political event, a living symbol of his wealth and power. I foiled more assassination attempts against him than I can remember. I was proud to be so favored, to be so ‘loved’ by my master. He rarely used his other bed slaves.

Despite how devoted I was to him, I dreaded the nights. He enjoyed inflicting pain. It was worse when he was punishing me, but he was never gentle. When he was pleased with me, he would merely send his magic through my brands to make me convulse when he was approaching orgasm. When he was displeased...no, I have said enough.”

Anders brushed the elf’s hair back from his eyes. “That monster will never touch you again. I will do anything it takes to make certain of it. Thank you for trusting me.”

“You showed me that my body is built for more than pain. I gave you my trust months ago, and you have kept it well.” Fenris leaned over his lover to gaze at him with startling intensity. “I am yours.”


	29. Chapter 29

Months turned into years, as Kirkwall and its denizens slowly healed. Hawke was Champion now, which mainly brought him bigger headaches. Meredith grew more paranoid by the day, convinced that blood mages lurked within the ranks of the Circle. Anders worked tirelessly for the poor and sick of Darktown. He stretched himself thin by treating patients all day and helping the mage underground whenever called upon. Fenris kept him grounded. More than that, he kept Justice calm. When he lost a patient, or failed to get past the templars on rescue missions, or another panicking mage summoned demons, Fenris was there to hold him and whisper words of encouragement. He would never admit to supporting the cause, but every time a mission looked to be particularly dangerous, the warrior insisted on being part of it. Once, without prompting, he stalked and cut down a certain templar who was known to be overly quick with the whip. Anders declared he had never been so turned on in his life, nearly getting himself banned from the Hanged Man in the process.

Still, it felt like he was trying to chop down a tree with a butter knife. Further restrictions on mages were rolled out every week. Templars patrolled day and night, hunting apostates. Mother Elthina was uninterested in reform. It would take a dramatic gesture to affect any lasting change - something that shook the Chantry to its core. It was tempting to just burn the damn thing down, and all the sanctimonious mothers and brothers with it, but that wouldn’t be justice. It would be vengeance.

He had another important decision to make, too. A friend of a friend of Varric’s was acquainted with a Chasind witch who claimed to know a ritual that reversed spirit possession. It required a massive amount of lyrium, something Fenris had in abundance. The warrior was more than willing to help despite the pain it would undoubtedly cause. The problem was Anders. He didn’t know that he wanted to separate. He could not tell how much of the reluctance was his own misgivings versus Justice’s objections. Surely the spirit would be happier at home in the Fade? But Justice was becoming more worldly. The mage could feel his presence at the edge of his awareness whenever he made love to Fenris. A spirit should not have carnal desires, but as time progressed it became increasingly evident that Justice did - at least when it came to Fenris and his lyrium skin. Sometimes it took all Anders’ willpower to stop the blue light from spilling forth during sex, especially when the elf was also alight.

Fenris had not pushed Anders to submit to the ritual, even though his own preference was obvious. Anders was grateful for that. Ever since their temporary breakup almost three years ago, the elf had been careful not to speak ill of Justice. Anders wondered if he would maintain that silence were he to realize what Justice wanted to do with him. The mage’s dreams were filled with images of his spirit-controlled body pumping into Fenris, filling him with the light of the Fade until it radiated out of his brands. Anders was pretty sure that lyrium didn’t actually work that way. The times when Fenris wanted Anders to penetrate him were few and far between, anyway. It mainly happened when the warrior was horny and at a precise level of inebriation. The way he writhed, giving in to the pleasure, his gorgeous cock twitching with each brush against his prostate, the feeling of the lyrium all around him - Anders was getting distracted again. He needed to decide about the ritual.

It would have to wait until after they made their plan of attack. The cause was too important to leave in the hands of a mere mortal.


	30. Chapter 30

“Fen? Can I get you anything?”

Fenris resisted the urge to snap at the mage through the bathroom door. He was only trying to help. “No. Thank you.” The elf watched the basin blossom red from the blood rinsing off his hands and gauntlets. Danarius’ blood. His sister’s blood.

He had prepared a room for her. He’d cleared out the broken furniture and debris from the entire mansion. The kitchen plumbing was functional again. There was a bed with clean linens and a vase with fresh daisies and a special quilt that some of Anders’ grateful patients had made. She would never use it.

Like so many other mages, Varania had sacrificed her soul in pursuit of power. Did she ever love him, even when he was Leto? Would his mother have betrayed him too, if she were still alive?

His enemies were dead now. Varania, Hadriana, Danarius. All by his own hand. It should have felt more satisfying. Instead he just felt empty, without even his hatred to sustain him. Despite this, he was not alone. His friends had all risen to his defense. "The boy is rather skilled, isn’t he?" Hawke swallowed his shocked dismay at the magister’s words just in time to fling a knife past his barrier. Isabella danced through the crowd of mercenaries, cutting hamstrings. Varric and Bianca rained death from the second story. Aveline’s shield kept the enemy at bay, Sebastian carefully sniped at Danarius in those brief moments between barriers, and Merrill’s vines entangled unwary feet. Anders fought beside the elf with spell and staff until Justice took over and began to rend demons limb from limb. There were people who cared whether he lived or died. Perhaps it was enough.

There was a light knock on the bathroom door. “Fen, can I come in?” He sounded worried. Fenris opened the door rather than reply. “I made dinner, and there’s a bottle of that wine you like with our names on it. We can sit down and eat and see if Justice will let me have more than one glass tonight. We can talk about whatever, or not talk, and go up to the roof to watch the sunset -” A lyrium-striped palm over his mouth stopped the stream of words.

“Cease your blathering, mage.” Despite his exasperation, the elf’s expression was fond.

“Right. Erm...How are you feeling?”

“I have been better, but I’ll live.”

The pair went down to dinner. Over roast duck and rice, they spoke of inanities - Varric’s latest publication, Isabella’s latest lover, Hawke’s latest scheme. Fenris welcomed the distraction. Going over and over what happened at the Hanged Man that day would do nothing but spiral him towards depression. Instead he soaked in Anders’ love, expressed in little smiles and silly stories. By the time he finished his comparatively generous portion of the Aggregio Pavali, he was feeling much improved.

Anders studiously avoided any discussion of mages or templars. Although the debate was a frequent one, it would do the elf no good to discuss it tonight. Therefore he was entirely surprised when Fenris brought it up without prompting.

“You have spoken of a grand gesture, something to provoke reform in the Circles. Have you given more thought to what that might be?”

“Yes, but I haven’t found the answer yet. The problem isn’t just the templars. So many mages are too afraid or too brainwashed to stand up for themselves. The ones who have read my manifesto mostly agree with me, but the mages who really need to see it are too afraid of blasphemy to even give it a chance. Meanwhile Meredith and other knight-commanders all over Thedas steadily grind their charges into the dust with ever-increasing restrictions and violations!” Anders pounded the table with his fist, then shook his sore hand sheepishly. “Sorry, love. This isn’t really dinner table conversation.”

Fenris watched the mage steadily over the rim of his wine glass. “Why don’t you kill Meredith?”

“What?”

“The woman rules both her mages and her templars with an iron fist. She has unilaterally introduced new regulations to crack down on the circle mages. Her harsh methods have only led to more abominations, more bloodshed. Bethany writes that the knight-captain is a reasonable man. He could improve conditions for the mages and make the city safer at the same time.”

“I’ve considered it, but I don’t think Cullen would be such a good replacement. He once said that he doesn’t see mages as people, for Andraste’s sake! Besides, the Circles would still be the Circles. I want to tear them down, not just make them more comfortable prisons.”

The elf set his glass down while listening, and leaned in. “You are making the perfect the enemy of the good. Most lasting change happens one step at a time.”

“Is that how you think slavery will be ended? One step at a time?” Anders shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight tonight. I...appreciate that you’re willing to discuss this.” He quirked his eyebrow. “Do I take it that if I wanted to assassinate Meredith you would support me?”

“Mage, if you wanted to assassinate Meredith I would kill her myself.” Fenris paused to take in Anders’ flummoxed expression. “I may have to anyway, if she keeps sending templars to hunt for your clinic.”

Anders grinned. “You say the sweetest things.”

“I try. Truly, though. I would do it to keep you safe, just as you killed several men today to prevent my capture.”

Anders reached across the table for his partner’s hand. “I would like to show you how glad I am that you’re safe and free.” Brushing his lips over the elf’s knuckles, the mage grinned again. “Want to go upstairs, or would you rather throw me over the kitchen table?”

Fenris’ answering smirk went straight to the human’s groin. “As much as I enjoy you all greased up, leftover duck fat is not my first choice of lubricant. Run upstairs, mage. I’ll give you a five second head start.”

An undignified yip issued from the human’s lips as he raced for the stairs.

The warrior caught him, of course, just as he reached the upper landing. They tumbled to the ground in a pile of laughter and flailing limbs, the tragedies of the day overtaken by the joys of justice served and freedom ensured. It was not long before Fenris was rocking into his mage, spooning him while one arm pressed Anders’ upper leg against his chest to allow him access. The human’s filthy moans set his pulse racing. The elf’s restrained strength was evident in every touch, every thrust. Anders reached down to tease himself, fingertips dancing along the sensitive foreskin as his body yielded to the rhythmic snapping of the elf’s hips. Fenris knew just how to hold him, just what angle would make him see stars and pray to the Maker, and he did not hold back. Anders ceased the ministrations to his own cock as he got close, knowing he could come from just the practised movements inside him and the elf’s deep voice murmuring encouragements in his ear. Soon another smear joined the old wine and blood stains on the carpet. Fenris nearly purred in satisfaction when he felt his lover clench and moan as his spilled himself. He followed soon after.

Yes. Perhaps this was enough.


	31. Chapter 31

Fenris was fixing a broken stair when he was interrupted by a loud knocking. Before he could get to the door it was already swinging open to reveal Hawke, Merrill, and a lumbering tower of blankets. Slightly glowing blankets.

“Fenris, thank the Maker you’re here! We need you to calm down Justice!”

Merrill pulled the blankets off to reveal the somewhat familiar sight of a shiny blue Anders. “He looks even taller when he’s glowing, doesn’t he?”

“What happened?” Fenris approached the possessed man cautiously.

“ **Knight-Commander Meredith has petitioned Divine Justinia for the Rite of Annulment. It must not be allowed!** ”

Hawke cut in. “He’s been like this ever since he found out. It’s been hours. He won’t change back! We’re lucky the templars didn’t stop us on our way here.”

“ **Hawke. You are a righteous man. Surely you cannot allow this injustice to be carried out!** ”

“I know, Anders - Justice. We’ll think of something, ok? We don’t even know if the Rite will be approved.”

“ **We must be prepared! The Divine has never been a friend to mages.** ”

Fenris put his hand on Justice’s shoulder, lighting his brands when he made contact. “Hawke is right. We will not allow Meredith to succeed. The best thing you can do to help the mages is to put Anders back into control so we can come up with a plan.”

“ **I do not know how.** ”

“Have you tried?” Merrill asked. The look she got from the spirit would have curled the toes of a lesser mage.

“ **I have tried. I do not know how to bring him back. In the past, I have simply...stepped back. This time I cannot concentrate, cannot withdraw. Your song helps me, love, but still I cannot yield.** ”

Fenris exhaled, a combination of a sigh and a huff. “You’ve done all you can for the moment, Hawke. I’ll stay with him until he returns to normal.” Justice turned his head and began to sniff at the lyrium etched hand on his shoulder.

Hawke eyes widened a bit to see the spirit tug on the elf’s index finger and slide the tip into his mouth. “You sure? One of us can stay with you.”

“It isn’t necessary. Justice is no threat to me.” He attempted to keep his expression unchanged as Justice released his finger only to slide his tongue down the marks on Fenris’ palm. The spirit audibly moaned.

“Right. Ok Merrill, let’s go.” Hawke’s words blended together in his haste to depart. The blood mage ran to keep up, whispering, “That was dirty, right? It’s not just me?” The slamming door cut off his response.

Fenris considered the being who was currently sucking on his wrist. He had not touched Anders in this form since their bizarre kiss years ago. The spirit seemed calm enough now, entirely focused on the lyrium.

“Justice?” The spirit blinked up at him, abandoning his task for the moment. Fenris steeled himself against the bizarre, otherworldly glow. Best to be polite. “Is there anything I can get for you? I realize you don’t drink, but we have water and tea. There might be some beef left over from last night, too.”

“ **I do not require sustenance.** ”

“Perhaps you would like to read, then?” Justice shook his head. “Or go to bed?”

“ **Yes. I would like to go to bed.** ”

“Come along, then.” Fenris helped the spirit take Anders’ feathered coat off. The spirit seemed to have no idea how buckles work. It was unnerving to see the body with which he had shared so many intimate memories fractured by light. Justice did not move like Anders, either. He stood straighter and moved with deliberation. He lacked Anders’ easy grace. Fenris held out Anders’ nightshirt for him as he struggled out of the mage’s tunic and pants.

“ **That will not be necessary.** ”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“ **Fenris. Are you not also coming to bed? You will need to remove your clothes as well.** ”

Heat bloomed on his cheeks. Now that the spirit was nude, it was impossible to miss the large erection he sported. “That wasn’t what I meant when I asked if you wanted to go to bed.”

Justice approached him slowly. “ **Was it not? I know what we do with you in this bed. It is something I long for when the injustices of this world threaten to tear me apart. You sing to me. You make me whole again.** ”

The warrior fought the urge to run. “You want to…?”

“ **I want to fornicate with you.** ” The being inhabiting Anders’ body stood but a hair’s breadth in front of him. “ **I want to hold you in my arms and fill you until all either of us can hear is the song of the Fade.** ”

Fenris tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “Would it bring Anders back?”


	32. Chapter 32

This was Anders. This was Anders, and Anders would never hurt him.

But it wasn’t.

Fenris winced as his markings burned from the spell that Justice cast. A cool, wet substance was rubbed between his thighs, into his crack.

“ **I apologize. Far better to cause some discomfort now than to injure you without the proper precautions.** ”

The elf gasped as a finger breached him. There was lubricant in the desk drawer; couldn’t Justice have used that? How much of Anders’ life did he even remember?

Fenris lay on his belly while Justice worked another long finger into him. Even with Anders, he had never done this completely sober. Yet he had agreed to this, had he not? He bit the pillow hard when a third finger probed his rim. The pillow muffled his cry well when that finger plunged into him. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it was an intrusion. He knew it was only a hint of what was to come.

The fingers withdrew. Fenris tensed, anticipating the spirit’s next move. The body he knew so well stretched over him, straddling and rubbing against him. The warrior closed his eyes, trying to pretend it was just Anders with him. To his surprise, the spirit did not immediately take him. Instead he rutted between Fenris’ buttocks as he licked and sucked along the lyrium lines on the elf’s back, moaning all the while in his eerie amplified voice. Fenris’ brands still remained lit at Justice’s request. The exploration went on long enough that Fenris began to hope it was enough to satisfy the creature.

Like so many of his previous hopes, this too was dashed. The spirit’s breath grew more irregular as he increased the speed of his rutting. Panting, he followed a lyrium line up Fenris’ neck to his ear. “ **Turn around, love. I want to see you.** ”

The words were so like Anders. Fenris clung to the hope that his lover was still with them somehow, protecting and loving him despite his possession. The thought gave him the courage to turn and face Justice.

The handsome face looking down at him was so familiar, the long blond hair just as soft as ever. There were fewer cracks in his skin now, but the eyes still shone brightly blue. It was difficult to read emotion in a face with such otherworldly eyes. “ **How often I have dreamt of you.** ” Long, dextrous fingers traced down Fenris’ side to his hip. The spirit frowned when his gaze fell upon the elf’s flaccid penis. He wrapped his hand around the organ and tugged on it lightly. Fenris bit his lip and turned his head to the side, body still not responding.

“ **You require further stimulation.** ”

Justice massaged the elf’s member clumsily, only causing Fenris to squirm. A particularly hard tug made him cry out. “Justice, stop!”

The spirit released him immediately, hovering over him with a creased brow. Fenris took a few shaky breaths while he waited for his heart to stop hammering. Justice frowned down at him but did not reach out to touch him again. “I do not need to be erect for you to fuck me.”

The spirit raised one eyebrow. “ **Anders believes you do.** ”

“Is he in there? Is he talking to you?”

“ **He is always here. We do not talk, but we inhabit this body as one.** ” Justice leaned closer and traced one finger along the elf’s bottom lip. “ **I intend to take great pleasure in your body tonight. It must be reciprocal.** ”

Fenris shivered, arousal intertwining with his fear.

“ **Tell me how I can please you.** ”

For the first time, Fenris considered becoming an active participant in the exercise. He had been prepared only to tolerate it. Yet in some ways, this was his beloved. He remembered their first time in the cursed room, when he had been similarly reluctant to participate. Anders had overcome that obstacle quite efficiently.

“If I let you suck my cock, would you be able to do it without teeth?”

“ **You would like me to remove my teeth?** ” He actually looked like he was considering it.

“No! Vishante kaffas, no. I only meant that you should be careful not to scrape or bite. Can you do that?”

“ **I can. I remember what to do.** ”

The spirit was not as adept at his task as Anders, but he did manage to coax Fenris’ penis to alertness. His enthusiasm at having the glowing whorls of lyrium in his mouth went a long way towards earning the elf’s attention. Fenris rested one hand cautiously on the spirit’s head to guide him and began to thrust shallowly into his mouth. If someone had told him when he came to Kirkwall that he would not only be getting head from a Fade being but enjoying it, he would have spit in their face. But here he was. Seeing that his efforts were well received, Justice grew bolder and began to experiment with his tongue and lips. The elf was practically petting his head by this point. Remembering what Anders most enjoyed, Justice plunged forward and took Fenris to the root - something Anders himself had never managed. He came up for air after drawing some very interesting gasps and grunts from the elf. “ **That is not so difficult.** ”

Fenris’ chuckle surprised both of them. “I suppose spirits have no need for a gag reflex.” Justice peered up at him curiously. The warrior just tugged on his blonde hair to bring him back into position. “Do that again.” The spirit complied happily.

The elf relaxed further as his partner saw to his needs. It was like being with Anders in many ways. His body, most of his mannerisms, the care with which he handled Fenris. His grip tightened on the blonde hair in his fist as he approached release. Before he could crest the wave, Justice pulled back.

“ **You are prepared. I would have you now.** ”

Torn between trepidation and lust, Fenris simply nodded. The spirit climbed on top of him. Hooking his arms under the elf’s knees, he spread them and pressed them into Fenris’ chest, effectively bending him in half. Exposing him. Fenris could still feel whatever goo the spirit had summoned earlier trickling out of him. He gasped when the thick cock breached him, whimpered as it skewered him in one smooth motion. In this position he was pinned and helpless, his enhanced strength no match for the spirit’s unnatural power. Justice keened. The spirit shone brighter than ever, drawing and answering glow from the elf’s brands. It felt nothing like when magic was performed in his vicinity. He tingled everywhere, most of all where their bodies connected. Something throbbed deep inside him; he couldn’t tell whether the source of it was the spirit or some part of himself. It was ecstasy.

Justice began to move again in full, powerful strokes. He had not finished two repetitions before Fenris screamed and spilled his seed between them. The spirit only tightened his grip and increased his pace. He fucked the elf hard, taking in every particle of lyrium light. Fenris writhed beneath him with every thrust against his prostate, unable to do more than strain against the spirit’s hold. It should have been overstimulating. Instead, the throbbing inside and around him kept him delirious with pleasure. Moistened by its own semen, his cock hardened again.

He lost track of how long it went on and how many times he came. The spirit had unlimited stamina. Fenris must have blacked out at one point, because he found himself in Justice’s lap with no idea how he got there. The spirit was bucking up into him, nipping and sucking at the lines on his neck, holding the elf’s torso tight to his own for leverage. Finally Justice flipped him over, pounded into him a few more times, and filled him with his release.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is high on the Fade.

Anders woke from a wonderful dream. He felt absolutely incredible. No, that didn’t do the sensation justice. (Hah!) He was rejuvenated. He could hear the steady breathing of his lover next to him, and that weight on his chest must be Fenris’ arm slung over him. The human stretched carefully, trying not to disturb his slumbering partner.

Huh. Things were...sticky. The sheets, his stomach, his groin, Fenris’ arm - everything was sticky. He cracked open his eyes and looked around in confusion. They were in their bed, in their bedroom. That would make sense if he could remember leaving the Gallows with Hawke and Merrill. Fenris was...looking utterly debauched. He lay on his side with one arm around Anders, the other under the pillow. His hair was in disarray. Hickeys dotted the brands on his chest, arms and neck. He was sticky too, almost everywhere. It was becoming increasingly clear what the sticky substance actually was. Semen mixed with a blue, gel-like substance was heavily concentrated between the elf’s bruised thighs. Anders gasped when he took in the purpled skin. He focused on Fenris’ face again. Yes, those were the traces of tear tracks. Oh no.

Tentatively, the mage brushed Fenris’ bangs behind his ear. He stroked his partner’s cheek with a thumb as he spoke. “Fenris? Fen, love?”

The elf was slow to respond, but eventually his emerald eyes fluttered open. “Anders? You’re back.” He looked a bit dazed, but not upset. “That’s good. ‘M going back to sleep.”

“No, hey!” Anders jostled his shoulder urgently. “Stay awake, sweetheart. What happened? I can’t remember.”

“Nng. Your spirit needs to masturbate more. He’s...mm, whatsit...repressed. Venhedis, I’m fucking sore.” Fenris flopped onto his back in an uncharacteristically ungraceful move.

“Fen, look at me; this is important.” Anders fought down the panic that was threatening to rise. “Did Justice do this to you? Did he...Did he rape you?”

“No, silly human.” The elf raised his hand in front of his face and glared at it. “Stop changing fingers,” he muttered to himself.

“Are you drunk?” If he was, he was drunker than Anders had ever seen.

Fenris shook his head. “Haven’t had anything. Was waiting for you to come home.” This time he leveled his glare in the general direction of Anders’ face, though he wasn’t quite on target. “You!” He jabbed his finger just to the mage’s left. “Were very, very late!”

“Ok, focus, Fenris. Did you or did you not have sex with Justice?”

“Did.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Told you I’m fucking sore.” Fenris lifted his leg to inspect one of the bruises. “But no. Not like Danarius.”

“Did you consent to everything he did?”

Having given up on the bruise as a bad job, the elf was soon distracted by some of the blue gel smeared between his thighs. “What in the Void is this stuff?”

“I don’t know, Fenris. I need you to look at me.” Anders took the warrior’s chin between thumb and forefinger and turned his face towards his own. “Did Justice do anything without your permission?”

Fenris blinked slowly, pupils dilating as he attempted to focus. “No. I consented.”

Anders sighed audibly in relief. “Can I use a diagnostic spell to see if you’re injured anywhere?”

“Ick. No thanks.”

“Do you know why you’re acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Dazed. Distractible. Confused.”

“‘M not confused.”

“Ok, you’re not confused. So do you know why you’re so dazed and distractible?”

“Nnnnno. It started when we finished. Well, when he finished. I was pretty finished already.” He giggled, and Anders’ jaw dropped. Fenris never giggled.

“Fenris, may I please, please use my magic to examine you?”

The elf waved Anders’ hand away. “The other you examined me plenty. I want to sleep.”

The mage bit his lip, analysing whether the need to diagnose Fenris outweighed the anger any unsanctioned magic would cause. Any magic cast near him made his markings burn, and magic cast directly upon him - even healing magic - caused more intense pain. It was no wonder he still refused magic in the bedroom.

Fenris slung one arm over his eyes to block the sunlight filtering into the room and muttered something in Tevene. At least he didn’t seem to be getting any worse. Anders decided to postpone any magical intervention for the moment. Instead, he busied himself with wiping them both down and pulling the sheets off the bed. He was halfway through washing them when it came back to him. The Rite of Annulment. Meredith had actually petitioned the Divine for the Rite of Annulment! Something had to be done. It was no wonder that Justice took over. The only surprise was that the spirit evidently chose to forgo raining fire down on the templars in order to get some nookie. He glanced at himself in the mirror. “You, serrah, have some explaining to do.”

Wait. Hawke and Merrill were with him when he heard the news. Were they alright? Anders rushed back to the bedroom.

“Fenris, wake up!”

“Mm.”

“Have you seen Hawke and Merrill?”

“Ridiculous question. Ridiculous mage.”

“What?” Anders hadn’t been this flustered in awhile. He didn’t miss it. “I don’t mean have you ever seen them; I mean have you seen them recently? Since Justice took over?”

“Mm-hm.”

“When? Where?” Anders was on the verge of pulling his hair out. He would be quite upset if he didn’t strongly suspect this was all his fault.

“They dropped you off last night.”

“So they’re alright?”

“Probably. Too many questions, Anders.” The warrior sat up gingerly, wobbling slightly.

They were interrupted by a voice from the foyer.

“Ahoy there! Fenris! Anders! Justice, you sexy beast!”

Anders stepped into the upper hall to deal with the pirate.

“What is it, Isabella?”

“Oh boo, it’s just you. Kitten told me all about how your shiny alter-ego finally got the stick out of his bum and decided to put the moves on your shiny elf. I was hoping to catch the encore.”

Andraste’s sweet perfume, this was just what he needed on top of everything. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” He turned to leave.

“No, wait, wait! I have a message from Hawke. We’re planning a civil uprising. He’s going to march everyone in Kirkwall who’s related to a mage or otherwise supports mages straight up to the Gallows to confront Meredith. He wants you to get your butt down the block to his place to help plan. Bring that luscious elf. Things are going down. Speaking of which -”

“Nope, heard enough. We’ll be there in a jiffy.” It was happening. It was finally happening, and he’d end the templars’ corrupt reign or die trying. “Thanks, Isabella.”


	34. Chapter 34

Getting Fenris cleaned up and presentable was easier said than done. Leaving him to his own devices in the mansion was out of the question. He was starting to act a bit more like himself, but he was still having problems with double vision and a short attention span. He finally gave Anders permission to use magic, which fixed his hickeys and sore muscles. Whatever was affecting his mind was more mysterious, however. The healer could detect no trace of poison or lingering spell effects. He just hoped Fenris would continue to improve.

The meeting at Hawke’s was productive. With Anders’ mage underground contacts, Varric’s enormous network of business associates, and the Champion’s status and reputation, they had enough people to make the templars think twice. The threat of a riot could be enough to get Meredith to revoke the Rite. If not, Hawke would call her out personally. Aveline was particularly displeased with the potential for rioting, but agreed to attend with a complement of guards. Hawke’s legendary powers of persuasion won her over. The guard presence would add to the intimidation factor and hopefully keep the peace if violence broke out.

Fenris managed to keep it together for the meeting, mainly by limiting his speech to the bare minimum. It didn’t help that Isabela kept nudging and winking at him. “That good, huh? Still off in dreamland with a certain blue-eyed spirit?” She was distressingly close to the mark.

By the time they called it a night, Fenris felt nearly normal. Sanity brought introspection, unfortunately. He was not certain what to make of the events of the previous night. Perhaps the fuzziness of his thoughts had been a blessing. He wondered if he had been disloyal. The mage always said he and Justice were one and the same, but clearly there was a difference between normal Anders and Fade-touched Anders. The human had no memory of what happened.

Back at the mansion, Fenris decided to just ask. “Are you upset that I was intimate with Justice?”

Anders hadn’t even considered the possibility. He smiled slightly. “No, Fen. Justice and I are so intertwined. It’s natural that he should love you as I do. When you’re with him, you’re with me too.” He squeezed the elf’s hand. “I never asked - why _did_ you decide to have sex with Justice? You’ve been really supportive of us and I appreciate it, but I didn’t realize you were _that_ comfortable.”

“I wasn’t. Not at first. But I believed that it would appease him enough for you to regain control.”

Anders nearly choked. “You slept with Justice... _to appease him_?”

“I...Yes.”

“Oh Maker, sweet Andraste…” The mage was starting to hyperventilate.

“Anders, stop! I...I don’t understand what I said to upset you! Please calm down.”

“You think I wouldn’t be upset that you slept with Justice because you were afraid of what he would do otherwise? Maker, I _am_ a monster!”

Fenris grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Mage, it wasn’t like that; perhaps I misspoke. It was...I told him it was alright! I agreed to it! He was actually rather sweet.”

“Fen.” Anders leaned his forehead on the elf’s shoulder, trying to regain control of his breathing. “None of that matters if you didn’t feel you had a choice.”

“I had a choice. I could wait and do nothing and just hope you’d come back to me eventually, or I could actually do something about it.”

Anders shook his head where it lay on Fenris’ shoulder, trying to think of a way to get through to the stubborn elf, not even certain if that was even the right thing to do. What good would come of convincing Fenris his trust had been abused? Did Justice even understand what he was doing? He made a decision. “Alright. Ok, love, I believe you. But as soon as this march on the Gallows is over, I’m doing the ritual. Justice is going back to the Fade.”

“Anders.”

“Yes, love?”

“You aren’t glowing. I have never seen you this agitated without cracks appearing.”

“That’s...huh. Weird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justice has absolutely no idea that what he did was sketchy. He's not great at nuance.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, a chapter that isn't about Anders' and Fenris' relationship. At least it's short.

Led by their Champion, hordes of citizens of the Free Marches descended upon the Gallows. Cullen ordered his knights to make a human wall, trying to keep order and barring the mob from the Circle and the barracks. The protesters were peaceful so far, but the air was heavy with tension.

It was a stand-off until Knight-Commander Meredith arrived. Hawke issued his ultimatum: withdraw the request for the Rite of Annulment and reform the policies restricting mage’s rights, or he himself would take over the Gallows. That was when Meredith drew her sword. The weapon’s noxious aura sent a ripple of unease through civilians and Templar’s alike.

“You have gone too far, Champion. You, and every fool to follow you here, have forfeited your lives. I will see each and every one of you executed, and thereby purge this city of its corruption!”

Chaos erupted. The citizens panicked, most of them fleeing. Cullen stepped between Hawke and Meredith, calling for her to stand down. Her only response was to aim a powerful strike that his shield barely blocked. Templars rushed to defend Cullen, to attack Hawke, to chase the fleeing citizens, to fight Meredith. Hawke’s daggers flew unerringly through the mob at Meredith and her loyalists. There were no battle lines, no clear sides to the struggle. Then the statues began to move.

It became a struggle for survival between the clearly insane Knight-Commander and everybody else. Fenris moved like a ghost through the battlefield, always appearing where he was needed most. All of Hawke’s entourage fought valiantly, Cullen alongside them, to Anders’ surprise. Anders could feel Justice’s strength and clear sense of courage buoying him, but the spirit never threatened to overwhelm him. He had never before fought like he did that day. If there was one word to describe his attitude, it would be clarity. He knew his cause was just. He knew exactly what he needed to do to counter Meredith’s unnatural powers. The templars would have said he fought like a demon. Fenris knew better.

When it was over, Anders surveyed the devastation. With Meredith dead, Cullen would take over. The Knight-Captain expressed interest in working with Hawke to reform the Kirkwall Templars and the onerous restrictions on the Circle mages. It was a victory. A small victory, affecting only one city, but a victory nonetheless. It was a start.


	36. Chapter 36

“What will become of Justice when the ritual is complete?”

“If all goes well, he’ll return to the Fade as the pure spirit he ought to be.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be just me again. The same old selfish mage I used to be.”

“I may not have met you before you joined with Justice, but I know for a fact that you’re more than simply a selfish mage. What you went through, what you survived...that speaks to strength of character. Besides, I enjoy your stupid jokes. I highly doubt those come from Justice.”

Anders pulled the warrior to him, kissing his forehead and smiling in gratitude. “I notice you don’t dispute the selfish part.”

Fenris smirked back at him. “That allegation I can neither confirm nor deny. I’ll let you know the verdict after the ritual.”

“I hope Justice will be happy to be home. I think he will be.”

“I’m certain he will. It is where he belongs.” Fenris frowned for a moment. “You know, I’m actually going to miss him.”


	37. Chapter 37

Their first night together without Justice was surprisingly normal. They made love simply, just Fenris rocking gently into his mage. Long kisses interspersed with gasps and moans. It was perfect.

Anders did feel a little bit empty, although Fenris ensured he did not feel alone. He would have to find out who he was now. To Fenris it was simple: Anders, in any of his incarnations, was the man he loved. In turn, that was the one thing Anders knew he still carried with him - his love for the warrior. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Anders stepped into the Fade. A non-mage would have merely started to dream, but the healer knew exactly where he was. There was a mirror in front of him. No, not a mirror. A window. Behind that window was his reflection - no, his double. The likeness was not exact, and the differences grew more apparent as they stepped towards each other. The other Anders wore a sword, not a staff. His posture was ramrod straight. And his eyes, of course, radiated lyrium-blue.

“Justice.”

“ **Anders, my dearest friend.** ”

They clasped hands, then the mage pulled the spirit into a warm hug.

“I never thought I’d see the real you again. I was so worried I’d corrupted you.”

“ **There were times when I nearly lost myself. Your mortal world is confusing and troubling. It is good to be home.** ” Justice released his grip on the mage to look him in the eye. “ **Know that as long as I wander the Fade, you shall be welcome here.** ”

Wiping a tear from his eye, Anders smiled and nodded.

The spirit opened his mouth, then closed it with an expression Anders never expected of Justice: nervousness. He rallied quickly and tried again. “ **My friend. I wish to visit Fenris next. I love him, Anders. I love you both.** ”

“You still love him? Even now that you’re, you know... you?”

“ **I do.** ”

Anders clapped him on the back. “I can’t blame you. In fact, I’m glad. To know you weren’t just using him.”

Justice appeared taken aback. “ **Using him? Certainly not!** ”

“Visit away. Just make sure Fenris is comfortable with the situation. Remember, all this Fade stuff is weird to him. If he’s not interested, I expect you to respect that.”

“ **Of course! I am no desire demon, to force my attentions on an unwilling mortal!** ”

“I know, I know. Just...don’t make assumptions. Let him set the pace.”

Justice nodded solemnly. “ **I shall. Take care, Anders. We will meet again soon.** ”

Anders awoke in bed, Fenris slumbering peacefully next to him. His stomach growled. Well, there was no reason he couldn’t have a snack. So what if it wasn’t absolutely necessary? He was a free man!

Two chicken drumsticks and one tooth-brushing later, Anders returned to their room. Fenris was stirring, though he still slept. A telltale bulge in the blanket clued the healer in to what was going on. The elf’s fingers twitched and he moaned breathily. “Really, Justice?” Anders whispered. He searched the warrior’s face for any sign of fear or unhappiness and found none. Fenris shifted slightly, the blanket riding down lower on his body. Maker’s taint, he was hot. Anders gave in to the temptation and pulled the blanket off his lover. He nearly drooled at the sight of the elf’s hard, weeping cock. No matter how familiar the sight, he could never get enough.

If he couldn’t participate, he could at least lie back and enjoy the show. Anders stretched out alongside his unconscious lover. His own libido was definitely taking an interest. He took himself in hand as he snuggled up to the elf. A pool of precum spread steadily across Fenris’ toned abdomen. Soon his hips began to move, flexing ever so slightly as his barely audible moans turned to whimpers. That was a noise he rarely made, and the memory of when last he’d heard it made Anders’ hand quicken his pace on his own organ.

“He’d better be treating you right, love,” the mage murmured into one pointed ear. He needed more. Anders sucked two of his own fingers into his mouth, pretending they were the lyrium-lined digits of his partner. When they were thoroughly coated, he brought them down to his entrance. He fucked himself with his fingers, pumping his dick with his free hand, clinging to the sight and sound of his beautiful elf in such wanton bliss.

The lithe bronze body stilled, abdominal muscles clenching and swirls of lyrium in sharp relief as they were painted in a second layer of broad white stripes. Fenris groaned, climbing to wakefulness in the wake of his orgasm. His eyes opened to meet a familiar honey-brown gaze.

“Anders…” His voice was coarse with sleep and emotion.”

Guiltily, the mage stopped masturbating and twiddled his thumbs. “Everything ok, Fen?”

“Mm. Come. Use my mouth. Want to make you feel good.”

The warrior reached for him and guided the human to straddle his face.

“Love you, mage.” It was the only thing Fenris said before he filled his mouth with Anders’ straining erection.

Anders braced himself against the headboard as Fenris’ talented mouth went to work. The warrior knew exactly what to do to reduce him to a blathering mess. “Fen...oh love - oh! Yes...Fen, please…” The elf worked two fingers into Anders’ passage, massaging the spot that made him keen and wail. Powerful thrusts of Fenris’ fingers forced him deep into the elf’s throat. The human surrendered any attempt at control, his hips bucking of their own volition. A clever tease of pressure and lyrium deep inside him tipped him over, and he shouted Fenris’ name as he emptied himself into the eager mouth.

The two men cuddled until their breathing returned to normal.

“I love you so much, Fen. Once you told me that you’re mine. I want you to know that I am yours. Always.

The warrior held him tighter. “And Justice?”

“Yours. We may not be one anymore, but I’m confident of that.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, love.” The mage kissed the tip of his ear. “This is a special case.”

Fenris rarely acted shy anymore, but this time he blushed and hid his face in Anders’ neck. “I love you both.”

Anders stroked his back soothingly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Perhaps someday we’ll learn how to share a dream, hmm?”

Fenris’ gaze was so smoldering that Anders had a sudden urge to notify Isabella. He nuzzled into his lover again. “Mm...Perhaps.”


	38. Chapter 38

Nothing was ever normal in Kirkwall. Even more so now that Varric was viscount. Some of the slave statues in the Gallows kept reanimating and had to be taken out to sea and dumped overboard. Reports of giant men walking the ocean floor became widespread. Meredith’s husk was more difficult to deal with. It could not be touched, let alone moved. Varric had it surrounded by newly commissioned sculptures of mages and templars hand in hand, an ever-present silent vigil against the madness of red lyrium. Hawke thought the symbolism was pretty ham-fisted, but Varric convinced him this was no time for subtlety.

The Circle was changing, albeit more slowly than Anders would have preferred. The Champion, who always had a knack for making things happen, ensured the first reform was family visitation. When Bethany could join them all for Wicked Grace, it was like she had never left. She gleefully accepted her position as maid of honor for Garrett’s marriage to Merrill. Cullen was proving to be more reasonable than the healer had feared. That didn’t stop Anders from wishing a plague of boils on all templars, but at least he was no longer praying for lightning to strike them right in their stupid bucket helmets.

With Fenris’ counsel, Guard-Captain Aveline started to crack down hard on the local slave trade. The warrior’s access to the whispers and rumors of the city’s elves was invaluable in tracking the criminals’ patterns and finding the ringleaders. There would always be opportunists and evildoers, but over time Kirkwall gained a reputation amongst slavers as a poor bet. It didn’t hurt that there were rumors of a ghost with an enormous broadsword who prowled the streets at night, plucking the very heart out of anyone foolish enough to deal in flesh.

Justice had been busy, too. He found a way to bring the three of them together in the Fade. The spirit was eager to hear of any progress made in either the pursuit of mage rights or the dismantling of the slave trade. He urged them to take the fight to the other cities of the Free Marches, even Tevinter someday, once Kirwall’s trajectory was secure. Still, their meetings in the Fade weren’t all about righteous causes and epic quests. They reminisced about their time together, gossiped about their friends, and simply enjoyed each other’s company.

The early morning after Varric’s official coronation found Justice, Anders and Fenris lounging in an ethereal garden in some obscure pocket of the Fade. Not being a mage, Fenris’ experience was always a bit more dream-like than it was for the others. As a result, he was feeling particularly relaxed. He was lying on a bench, running his fingers through Justice’s hair, telling him about the three-storey tall ice sculpture of Kirkwall’s crest that was the centerpiece of Varric's coronation. His feet rested in Anders’ lap. Every now and then the mage would pinch one of his toes, trying to get a rise out of him. The man’s self-satisfied smirk was getting a rise out of an entirely different part of Fenris’ anatomy, however. The elf rubbed his bare feet suggestively along the slight bulge in Anders’ trousers. Revenge was sweet.

The healer stood abruptly and leaned down to whisper something in Justice’s ear. The two then turned to him in unison, a twinkle in the golden-brown eyes, a flare of deep blue in the otherworldly pair. Clothes were shed in an instant. Large, blue-veined hands braced Fenris’ hips, pulling him to the edge of the bench. His legs were pulled apart to wrap around Justice’s waist. Anders straddled his lap and traced his markings with gentle fingers, stimulating him as only a practiced lover could. One thing that the Fade had going for it, Fenris reflected, was its lack of physical limitations. His mage mounted him easily, hot walls squeezing his cock with the perfect amount of friction. He had barely a moment to enjoy the fresh sensation before Justice pressed into him, the stretch stealing the elf’s breath away. Anders stilled above him, giving him a moment to relax. The movement inside him was shallow at first, building slowly as he adjusted.Then the spirit found the spot that always made Fenris lose control. His moans and relieved sobs spurred Justice on until the spirit was taking him hard and fast, one arm wrapped around Anders’ chest and the other digging into Fenris’ hip. Justice had learned restraint for Fenris’ sake, yet he still fucked the same way he did anything - with overwhelming intensity. He was always careful never to hurt either of them. Fenris wondered when exactly he had come to trust the spirit, to love him even. How he could come to enjoy his partners’ strength, how he could offer himself up without fear.

It helped that Anders was leaning over him, raising himself up until only the head of Fenris’ cock caught at his rim, then lowering himself with a groan. The mage was lovely like this, mouth open, chest heaving, Justice’s hand tweaking his nipples. He whispered endearments in Fenris’ ear with every breath. The elf barely had the presence of mind to wrap his own hand around the mage’s dick as sensations overwhelmed him from every side.

Fenris woke up gasping and trembling, hazy with pleasure, in a sticky wet puddle. He really needed to start putting a towel down before bed. Anders was wrapped around him, humming contentedly, blithely uncaring of his own sticky mess. He nuzzled against Fenris’ ear.

“Alright there, love?”

“Mm-hm.” The warrior wasn’t quite up to uttering actual words yet.

“Any preferences for next time?”

“Hmm…That depends. Do you think Justice would let me tie him up? I have given some consideration to what I could do with the both of you at my mercy.”

“There’s only one way to find out. We’ll ask him next time. In the meanwhile…” Anders’ fingers brushed across the elf’s chest to tease one dusky nipple. “I know there’s rope around here somewhere. Care to give me a sneak preview?”

Fenris smirked at Anders’ saucy grin. “You are insatiable, mage.”

“You love it.”

“I do. I really do.”


End file.
